Soliloqies Of John
by The Science Of Seduction
Summary: John and Sherlock overseas for a strange case. AU OCs. M because I say so.
1. Chapter 1

Being the (slightly above) average person I am, I feel compelled to watch crappy daytime television and become absolutely absorbed in it. Which is why I got so excited when I heard these words escape my (hopefully soon to be) lover's mouth:  
"We're going to Australia,"  
Okay, maybe there wasn't as much conviction as Oprah, but it was still something.

I spat out my tea for three reasons. One, Sherlock had made it and it tasted foul. Two, he surprised me with his news of our Australia trip and three, the top half of him was naked as he said it.  
"Wh…Why…Why are you…?" I managed to say. The sight of him like that was so beautifully distracting but the man himself didn't notice my awkward stare.  
"There's a very curious case there. I managed to get a recording of the last English broadcast they had before communication was cut completely," he spun a disc around his finger mindlessly as he sprawled on the sofa, his torso still unclothed.  
"Not wearing a shirt?" I finished.  
"What? Oh, couldn't be bothered looking for one. You don't mind, do you?" I shook my head and my thoughts refocused on the disc.  
"Wait, last _English_ broadcast? Sherlock, they're Australians, they don't speak a different language to us, they speak English!"  
"No they don't, although they are quite fluent in English they have their own language that they developed in secret. Being so cut off from the rest of the world it's not that hard to do,"

~I knew that if anyone else heard this they'd be offended, but at least I burnt the disc after we watched it. Sherlock had insisted I watch it and I nearly fell over from shock at how racist it seemed to me.~

Sherlock placed the disc into the DVD player attached to the television. A screen flashed up that said "NEWS BROADCAST" and was soon replaced with a man in a cork hat with a strange animal sitting next to him.  
"ROIGHT! M'name's BRUCE! We need to git this news out to all of ya! What's that, Skip?" the animal clicked a few times at the man, "Ev'ryone's bin disappearin'?" Click click, "STRUTH! Wadda we do, Skip?" Click click click "Bugger, we're in a ridge of a didge problem! SHEILA! GIT ME BOOM'RANG!"  
The video stopped and I stared at the blank screen in shock.  
"As you can see, people in Australia are disappearing, and they have no idea why, so their Government hired us…well, me…to solve this case," I still couldn't say anything. My eyes and ears and basically been raped by that video. I nodded slowly and Sherlock stared quizzically at me, "problem?"  
"Problem?" I repeated, "PROBLEM? Sherlock, that is probably _the _most racist thing I have ever seen, where did you get that?"  
"From the 24 hour news channel. Molly tapes it and I take what I need from it," _Typical,_ I thought. He is so mean to poor Molly, but if it means he's not interested in her I guess I can deal with it. A small smirk crawled across my face and Sherlock saw it this time, "what?"  
"Hmm? Oh, nothing. I was…thinking about the video," not a complete lie, but a lie nonetheless. Sherlock's face widened in smiling agreement.

~There are only two situations that this man smiles at- situations where my opinion is involved and situations where he's just being a smart-arse. Luckily, the two hardly ever mix.~

It took us nearly three hours to pack. Well, by 'us' I mean 'me', Sherlock had left shortly after the video saying he had something important to do and left me to pack our clothes. I didn't complain, it meant I got to choose what he wore the entire time he was there. I packed a selection of silk shirts of various colours, a pair of pants and three pairs of skin-tight black pants for him. I didn't pack any suits for him, it was too hot for those or his infamous trench coat and scarf. Shortly after I had finished packing I received a message from Sherlock: 

_TO: John  
FROM: Sherlock  
Meet me at the airport with our clothes. I have everything else we need. A taxi is on the way. SH_

I let out a content 'huh' as I finished reading. A taxi pulled up outside of the flat and I quickly zipped the bags and carried them downstairs. The ride was strange, one of the very few times I had ridden in a taxi alone. I missed Sherlock's company; I always did when he rushed off. As the vehicle pulled up at the airport, I noticed how deserted it was. In fact, the only person in the building apart from me was Sherlock sitting at a table.  
"Here's your bag," I said cheerily as I hoisted the suitcase onto the table. He unzipped it and looked at the contents. I felt myself blush as he analysed my choice of clothes for him. For a moment I swore I saw him smile slightly.  
"Good work, John," he stated flatly, "we'll be boarding in about 15 minutes, by the way."  
"Oh," I looked around to see emptiness. The building had basically been abandoned, "so…where are all the other people?"  
"Other people?"  
"Yeah, the other people in town that want to go places. Shouldn't this airport have _people_ in it?"  
"No, Mycroft 'shut down' the airport so our journey would be safer and more secret. I don't want Moriarty thrown in with this. And before you ask, Mycroft will be the pilot, Government bond thing or whatever. I wasn't listening."  
"Obviously," I rolled my eyes at him as I said it.

The plane was halfway to Australia when Sherlock fell asleep. He was a bit restless, but I didn't really mind. It was actually quite cute. At one point he started pawing at an invisible object in the air like a cat. The movements slowed and eventually his arms drooped down. One landed on the aisle-side arm, the other landed on my thigh, with his index and middle finger actually touching the part of my pants that covered my crotch. This was awkward.

~It wasn't the most awkward thing that had ever happened to me, however. One night Sherlock and I stopped at a fast food place to get dinner and as I pulled out the money to give to the woman serving us, my wrist flicked and the money flew out of my fingers and landed on her chest. We all stared at it and I wasn't sure whether I should have picked it up and given it to her properly or just leave it and stay away from her breasts.~

I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. If I picked up his hand he could wake up and then I'd have to explain it, but if I left it and he figured out I was awake the whole time, questions would be asked. I felt him move again and opened my eyes slightly. His head rolled to face me. It looked like he was asleep, so I opened my eyes a little wider and stared at him through half-closed eyelids. He didn't stir however, and I felt like a teenager indulging my feelings for him because of something so small. Towards the end of the flight, I felt brave enough to lightly brush my hand across his cheek. He stirred slightly and murmured something I didn't understand. I ran my fingers across his face once more. He smiled and nuzzled his head into my hand. I caught some of his hair and twirled it as my palm rubbed against him. A light signalling that we were about to descend flashed and I pulled my hand away from Sherlock and pretended to be asleep. Mycroft's voice came through the speakers.  
"Good morning, John and Sherlock. Welcome to Australia," Sherlock woke and I appeared to have as well. We stretched out and I glanced at the country below us. It was green. And big. That was about all I could see from this distance, but I was impressed. I looked back over at Sherlock, he was touching his right cheek as he sat deep in thought. he even looked a little confused.

We exited the empty airport and were greeted by the chauffeur Mycroft had hired for us.  
"Sherlock?" The man asked.  
"Yes. This is my colleague John Watson," He replied, gesturing at me.  
"_Ygssgv dt_," the chauffeur muttered as he walked to the car.  
"What was that?" I asked Sherlock. He smiled at me and I blushed slightly.  
"That," he answered, "was Australian. He wants us to get in the car, I gather."

~Sherlock told me that Australian was one of the hardest languages to speak. if we were lucky, we would find some people that still spoke English, but the majority of Australians nowadays speak this language that I had never heard of until yesterday. Neither Sherlock nor I could speak Australian, so you can imagine how difficult getting information was.~

"_Vitf ngx vqsa qvqn, ngx rgf'z itqk dt lqn hstqlt~  
Gi wqwn rgf'z ug~  
lodhst qfr estqf ol zit vqn ziqz ngx'kt dqaofu dt...~"  
_The chauffeur had been singing for nearly an hour now, and it was getting annoying. Sherlock had the ability to shut it out when he wasn't thinking extremely hard, but I had to suffer through this string of incomprehensible syllables. After four hours the car stopped outside of a small town.  
"Here," spoke the driver, "no further. Danger. _Liqrgv_," Sherlock nodded and signalled for me to leave the vehicle with him. Once we were out, the car sped off in the other direction, leaving Sherlock and I in this seemingly deserted town. It was about another hour until we found someone as we walked through the town. It was a beautiful place, right next to the ocean. The water was so clear it was like blue glass and the beaches had such soft and clean looking sand. I was amazed by the calm feeling I had just being in this town. The woman we found was in a forest-like area. There was a river that stretched out into a lake and it was surrounded by trees. The sun poked through the branches, leaving sprinkles of light on the ground. She was looking out over the lake as she sat on the edge of the river bank. She had short, black, wavy hair and was wearing a trench coat as far as I could see. We approached her and she whipped her head around and upon seeing us jumped up and backed away.  
"_UG QVQN!_" She cried. Sherlock looked at her with a puzzled look on his face and I dropped my suitcase and put my ands up trying to reassure her that we meant no harm.  
"Sorry," I said softly and slowly, "we mean you no harm. I am Dr. John Watson, this is Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock smiled at me as though I'd done something wrong, "what?" I asked him.  
"Can't you hear her accent? She's English, John," he chuckled at me and I blushed uncontrollably.  
"You're...Sherlock Holmes?" the woman asked.  
"Yes, and this...wait..." He stared analytically at her and as I followed his gaze I could see why. She wasn't just wearing a trench coat, she wore a black suit with a white shirt that had faint white vertical stripes, black gloves and narrow dress shoes, and a blue-grey scarf. She turned red as we realised that she was wearing the same clothes as Sherlock.  
"Why are you wearing my clothes?" He asked.  
"I...I'm a fan..." She stuttered, clearly embarassed.  
"So...You read my website?" He seemed to be asking hopefully.  
"Umm...no...I have no internet, you see..." Sherlock looked a bit disappointed at that.  
"You saw him on the telly, then?" I asked.  
"No...I don't have one of those either..." Sherlock and I were puzzled.  
"Newspaper?" She shook her head. She wasn't making eye contact anymore, she pushed at the grass mindlessly with the toe of her shoe and Sherlock and I just stood there, perplexed.  
"How?" Sherlock asked, "how do you know me?"  
"I saw your face," she looked back up at us, eyes fixed on Sherlock.  
"Where?" I asked. She kept her eyes on Sherlock with a stiffness that he himself employed when he was giving an explanation that seemed fairly obvious to himself but nobody else.  
"...The sky."  
"What?" we asked in unison.  
"I saw your face in the sky when I was sitting right here. It was made of stars, and I drew it in my sketch book," she held out a small book. The cover was made of what seemed to be stone and a giant "X" surrounded by roses was engraved on the cover. Sherlock was given the book and he flicked through the pages, finding life-like images drawn on nearly every page. They looked like black and white photos. There were pictures of him playing his violin, looking through a microscope, sitting in a taxi, everything. Then, as he flicked halfway through the book, my face appeared, "Yes, that's you," the woman said, "you came in a few months ago, I saw you and when I drew you next to him, you just seemed to...fit," I looked back at the pictures, we were drawn sitting in the flat, standing next to the lady from "A Study In Pink", smiling at each other, by the pool, at this lake and finally there was a less detailed sketch. parts of us were missing and there were rough lines around some other parts but the main image was recognisable. I was in a bed with my head turned to my right. my right hand was resting on the top of my pillow and the left...the left was holding Sherlock who was sleeping next to me. He was curled into my side and his left hand was resting on my bare chest. I couldn't tell if we were fully naked, there was a rough blanket in the way, but the tops of us definitely were. I blushed and I noticed that Sherlock did too. He snapped the book shut and handed it back to her.  
"Wh...Why did you..." He pointed at the book, clearly flustered, "why did you draw that?" the woman tilted her head in contemplation.  
"Hmm. I don't know. Things just pop into my head and I draw them. I didn't know you were real until just now," she smiled at Sherlock and I have to admit I was getting a little jealous. He stared at her like she stared at him, except he seemed a bit put off by her.  
"Wait...We don't know your name!" I stated in realisation.  
"Oh, right!" she rolled her eyes and shook her head, "I'm Xiakara," she extended a gloved hand for us to shake. After the introduction, Xiakara took us to a large house near the lake where she said she lived. It was a modern house with white walls and black furniture and ornaments. It was fairly empty except for the few small statues scattered on black tables. She led us into a darker room where a man in a cork hat, a furry animal and another woman in a kimono were sitting around a desk. Xiakara greeted each of them:  
"G'day Bruce. Tch tch tch. Konnichiwa," they waved back at her and she made more introductions,"Sherlock, John, this is Bruce, Skip and Archanderal."  
"Bruce and Skip? Like from the Australian news?" I asked. Sherlock put a hand over his eyes, which I guessed was a sign that I was being an idiot again.  
"NAH, MATE,"  
*~*

~Australians are very loud, I found out~

*~*  
"EV'RYONE'S GOT A 'ROO CALLED SKIP. 'S PART OF BEIN' AUSTRAIL'YUN. ALL THE BLOKES'RE CALLED BRUCE, TOO!"  
"I see. So," I turned to the woman in the kimono, "you're Archanderal? That's an interesting name."  
"Nandesuka?" She replied. I turned to Sherlock and mouthed 'Australian?' and he shook his head.  
"Japanese," he whispered, "She just said 'what?'"  
"Oh. Wait... You know Japanese?"  
"Hai," he replied, "you doubted my abilities?"  
"Never," I smiled. He smiled back awkwardly and spoke to Archanderal.  
"Hajime mashite. Watashi wa Sherlock desu. Douzoyoroshikuonegaishimasu," he bowed in front of her.  
"Sherroku desuka?" she asked.  
"Hai."  
"Sh-Sh-Sherroku-chan ga daisuki desuyo!"  
"Ah..." He looked at her nervously, "arrigatou gozaimasu," Archanderal looked at me and smiled.  
"Onamae wa nandesuka?" She asked. I looked at Sherlock and he whispered 'name'.  
"Oh. John," I looked back over at Sherlock and he bowed slightly, "Oh!" I said, and bowed to her. She giggled at me and turned back to Sherlock.  
"Jon-san ga suki desu. Demo, Sherroku-chan ga daisuki desuyo!"  
"Sherlock, what is she saying?" I asked as the others chuckled at her.  
"I don't think you want to know," He replied and smiled warmly at me, making me blush.

**Hello! This is my second Sherlock story and I just realised how long this chapter is. Before you are offended, I was born and currently live in the country I'm insulting. My friend and I started the idea. Right, now it's time to translate the Japanese! A for Archanderal, S for Sherlock, J for John, obviously:  
A: What?  
S: Japanese, she said 'what?'  
J: You know Japanese?  
S: Yes. (blah, blah) How do you do. I am Sherlock. Pleased to meet you.  
A: Sherlock?  
S: Yes.  
A: I love Sherlock! (Stuttering)  
S: Ah...Thank you very much.  
A: What's your name?  
J: Oh. John.  
A: I like John. But, I love Sherlock!**

~ means John is reminiscing or thinking to himself a bit off topic~

**Archanderal and Xiakara are a couple of my minor OCs that I use in stories. If you read my other Sherlock Fanfic, you'll see me use Xiakara. She is not the same in this story.**

Pronunciation: Xiakara (Sha-ka-ra)  
Archanderal (Ark-an-der-all)

Oh no, this bit's getting long too!  
Well,  
See you in the next chapter!  
SH


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock, we're staying in a house of stereotypes. I'm really not comfortable with this," I told him. Sherlock was going through his laptop and didn't make eye contact as I stood in front of him with my hands on my hips. We were interrupted by a knock on the door.  
"Excuse me," I realised it was Xiakara, "I was just wondering if you'd like some tea."  
"Yes, please," I replied. Sherlock looked up from his computer and raised an eyebrow at me, "what?" I asked, sitting on the bed of the room we were in.  
"Nothing," he mumbled.  
"Wait a second...There's only one bed in this room," Sherlock looked at the bed and then back at my slightly flustered face.  
"Problem?"  
"It's a bit awkward if two men are sharing a bed, Sherlock."  
"Really? I thought people were more mature than that."  
"Shut up, I meant the picture Xiakara drew. She drew accurate pictures of other things we've done, who's to say this one isn't right?"  
"I am. I know you have no attraction to me and I have no attraction to you. Therefore, I fail to see the issue of a shared bed," My face became hot. I knew Sherlock would suspect something if my face was as red as I thought it was, so I decided to go to bed to avoid conversation.  
"I guess you're right. I'm going to bed, then. Good night, Sherlock."  
"Good night, John. I'll have your tea."

I woke late at night because of Sherlock. He started pawing at the air like a kitten again. I sat up and grabed his arms, resting them at his sides. He smiled and I started stroking through his hair as I lay back down on the bed. After a few seconds of doing this, I started to hear a low noise. I leaned in towards Sherlock and turned my head so my ear was facing him. My eyes widened as I realised what it was- Sherlock was _purring_. I could feel my body reacting in a not-so-good way. I pulled my hand away from his hair and he frowned and pawed around for it. He grabbed it with both of his hands and pulled it towards his mouth. _What is he doing?_ I thought, _Oh, I hope he doesn't wake up..._ I could see Sherlock open his mouth slightly, and a small piece of pink flesh slithered out from between his lips. Before I could even think, Sherlock started licking my fingers with the tip of his tongue. He started with the middle, going from the line between the palm and the finger and licking lightly to the tip. I could feel the heat building inside me. To make matters worse, he began purring again while he was licking me. I don't know how he did it, but he did. After he had given my fingers a thorough licking, he nuzzled against my hand. I pulled it away from his face and he grabbed onto me and nuzzled my neck instead. He rested his left hand on my chest and I wrapped mine around him.

*~*  
~Before I drifted to sleep I realised that he had copied me in the absence of a shirt, which I guessed was either because it was very hot in this country, or he lied to me about his feelings. I hoped it was a little of both.~

*~*  
After lying half awake listening to the sound of Sherlock breathing, I was surprised by a high-pitched Japanese voice filling the room.  
"KAWAII!" She cried. Sherlock stirred in his sleep as she took a picture of us, and he gripped my shoulder, pushed himself to the side of my face and groaned.  
"John..." He whispered, rubbing his nose against my ear and holding onto me for dear life.  
"MOEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Archanderal took several pictures with this camera she suddenly had with her. I was afraid to tell her to leave because she might have taken a photo of me with my eyes open, showing that I was awake when Sherlock was doing this, meaning there would have been a lot of explaining to do. I was saved by Xiakara, who entered to room and told her to leave Sherlock and I alone until we woke up.

I sat on the end of the bed with a towel wrapped around my lower half and my laptop on my lap. Water was dripping from my hair from the shower and I could feel Sherlock moving in the bed.  
"How can you still be asleep?" He moved towards me and wrapped his bare arms around my waist, "honestly, this sleep caressing is going to get on my nerves."  
"Who said I was asleep?" I nearly had a heart attack. Sherlock ran his hands over my damp torso and I blushed furiously as he nipped the side of my neck. I looked down and saw his unclothed thighs either side of me. _Oh God,_ I thought, _He's naked. Sherlock is naked. Why is Sherlock naked?  
_"John?" Sherlock breathed into my ear.  
"Nngghhh?"  
"There's a towel in the way."  
"Towel?" He tugged at the cloth wrapped around me. It loosened and eventually fell off of me. I blushed as I looked down at my exposure, "In...in the way of what?"  
"This," Sherlock pulled me backwards and shifted so he was kneeling over me. He pinned my arms to the matress with his hands and I blushed furiously at him.  
"Sh-Sherlock..."  
"John?" came a voice at the door. I looked past Sherlock and saw another Sherlock standing at the door.

~I think I'm in heaven.~

The Sherlock on top of me dissolved into the air and the Sherlock at the door stared at me lying on the bed. I pulled the blanket over me and Sherlock walked over and stood at the end of the bed.  
"Wh...What just happened? Am I still asleep?" I asked. My face flushed for the fiftieth time since we arrived and Sherlock just kept staring.  
"No...I'm as confused as you are, John. But I think this might be a clue as to why people have been disappearing."  
"How?"

**Hello. This chapter isn't as long as the last one, which is good because I don't want to pack too much in. Thank you to the people who add my stories to their alerts and take the time to review them, as I keep saying- it means a lot to me. I'm trying to write as much as I can before the holidays end because I won't have the internet for a while after then.  
~Translation time!  
~Kawaii: I'm sure most of you know this means "Cute"  
~Moe: (pronounced mo-ayy) is what girls cry out in anime when they see something so attractive they nosebleed. I say anime because I'm not sure if they actually say this, I've only seen it in anime.**

Gold Star to anyone who can decipher the Australian language in Chapter one. If no-one can be bothered, I'll post it in Chapter three. Just putting it out there. I made it up (obviously) so translation sites won't help.

See you in the next chapter!  
SH


	3. Chapter 3

"How?" I asked again. Sherlock stood in calculating silence as I wrapped the sheets around me to search for my clothes. I went into the bathroom to change and as I emerged in a grey cotton shirt and jeans, I found Sherlock typing at his computer.  
"I don't know how, but I know it is connected. John, tell me what happened before I walked in," I blushed and explained the story. He looked up and raised an eyebrow in his usual fashion, "so...why did you come out with only a towel on?"  
"I-I forgot to take my clothes in with me so I came out to get them, and then you...umm..._it _tried to take advantage of me!"  
"And you let it?"  
"Well I thought it was you," Sherlock looked at me in surprise, "...I didn't want to hurt it accidentally."  
"Ah," he said. He typed furiously on the computer and after he finished he closed it, steepled his fingers and closed his eyes.

"John?" came a voice from the end of the hallway. Xiakara stood at the top of the stairs with a tray in her hands. She wore the same outfit she did yesterday, which I imagined was extremely hot to wear in this country.  
"Oh, Xiakara...How-How are you this morning?" I stuttered, trying (and failing) to conceal the after effects of the awkward conversation I had just exited.  
"I'm fine, although I'm a bit concerned about you. I saw Archanderal running down stairs screaming 'moe' with a camera in her hand. Anything I should know about?"  
"Probably not," I tilted my head slightly and tried to steer the conversation away from me, "aren't you hot in that outfit?"  
"Extremely," she replied bluntly.  
"Then...why do you wear them?" she looked away from me and her face turned red. Obviously it was a delicate topic as she copied me and changed the conversation again.  
"So, where's Sherlock?"  
"He's...thinking..."  
"Oh," she looked at the tray in her hands. "Oh! I was getting you breakfast!"  
"...Thank you. You didn't have to."  
"It's alright. Come with me," I followed her down the stairs.  
*~*

"So what exactly are we looking for?" I asked Sherlock as we walked down the empty street.  
"Signs that people were here," he moved towards a house and pulled out his lockpick.  
"Well, there's houses..." I stated, looking up and down the street. Sherlock shot me a condescending look and continued to pick the lock. I held his shoulder and moved him away from the door. He frowned as I kicked it in, "nobody lives here, it doesn't really matter, does it?" he mumbled and I followed him inside. I watched with awe as he glided around the room, looking for some sort of evidence. He ran his fingers across multiple surfaces and signaled me over to a small coffee table where he was investigating a dark spot. I prodded it and some of it stuck to my finger. I smelt it and then squished it between my finger and thumb.  
"You see this, Sherlock? It's black, odorless and sticky...What could it be? Some sort of food?"  
"I doubt it. I've experimented on basically every type of food and nothing has come close to that."  
"Then what is it?"  
"I have no idea. I'm keeping a sample and I'll see if there's some sort of laboratory nearby," He pulled out a small tube and pushed some of the mystery substance into it. We looked around the rest of the house. It was still full of furniture and the personal belongings of the owners, but they were covered in cobwebs and dust. Many of the other houses we went into were the same, the only exceptions were the houses that were for sale, but they still had webs in the corners.  
We returned to Xiakara's house and Sherlock asked where the nearest laboratory was.  
"LAVATORY? THE TOILET'S UPSTAIRS!" Yelled Bruce. The thing next to him clicked and I swore it put its paw over its eyes in frustration, "WHAT'S THAT SKIP? THEY DON'T WANNA KNOW 'BOUT THE THUNDERBOX? ROIGHT!"  
"Xiakara, I'm sorry but what is that thing?" I asked. Sherlock looked condescendingly at me again but Xiakara just smiled.  
"It's a kangaroo. They're native to Australia," she said simply. I looked over at it and it scratched its stomach at me, "anyway, the nearest lab is across the bridge, only an hour away from here."  
"An hour? Are you serious?" I blurted. She looked at me with some confusion and returned to what she was saying.  
"If you walk it is. It's not that far and we have no other transport except for a couple of bikes. You don't really look like the cycling type, though."  
"I'm pretty sure we know how to-"  
"Shut up, John," Sherlock whispered harshly. I looked at him in bewilderment and he continued talking for me, "I'm sure we'll be fine with walking. We'll go tomorrow, okay John?"  
"Oh...umm...yes, that's fine."

~*I could feel the wind blowing gently outside the window. I rested my head on the windowsill as I sat on the bed. The garden below stretched out into crystal water. The person that had entered the room climbed onto the small bed and held me from behind. As they whispered in my ear, tears welled in my eyes. I got up and felt like jumping from the chaotic room and into the calm wind.*~

I snapped awake the next morning without breath. My eyes darted around the room. It was different from the one I just saw, but it was more familiar. I picked up my phone from the bedside table and checked the time.  
"9.30," I mumbled to myself. Sherlock stretched out sleepily from the other side of the bed. I jumped, forgetting that we had to share.  
"John?" he inquired lazily.  
"Yes, Sherlock?"  
"Did you have a nightmare? Your breathing was quite fast and heavy. I was considering the option of it being an erotic dream but given the style in which you woke I believe a nightmare is more fitting."  
"I think I did. But it was strange," I looked over at him. Although he sounded as though he was wide awake, he was curled into the blankets and he had his eyes closed.  
"How so?" he rolled over so his body faced me, but he still looked asleep.  
"Well...I didn't know where I was, I didn't know what I was doing and I didn't feel like it was me in the dream," Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at me with an enigmatic glitter.  
"Then who were you?"

**Hello again. Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but the lack of computer availability at my current residence coupled with the lack of regularly accessible internet does make it quite hard. As you can see, there's some serious business going down in the story at the moment. Also, "Skip" facepalmed at Bruce, just making it a bit clearer for you.**

~* This represents John's dreams/nightmares/whatever you want to call it. *tiny spoiler* as it develops, it will get a bit angsty, so be warned. *~****

**For chapter one- The song is "Simple and Clean" by Utada Hikaru and the alphabet is on your keyboard, ie qwerty= abcdef and so on. ******

**Next chapter is a fair way away if you walk, but I have no other transportation except for these bikes and you guys don't look the cycling type :3  
SH**


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't know," I replied quietly, "I can hardly remember what it was about," Sherlock rolled back over and pulled the blankets over himself. I tried to do the same, but I couldn't fall back asleep. Unsatisfied, I trudged downstairs to make tea.

The walk to the laboratory was long and hot. The air wasn't moving so the heat settled around us, inviting the sun to beat down on us as well. The water under the bridge sparkled in the sunlight, and I was enticed to swim in the liquid crystal that lapped at the bridge's supports. The bridge, I was told, was nearly a kilometre in length. There was space for both cars and pedestrians but it was empty except for Sherlock and I.  
Eventually, we made it to the laboratory. Sherlock darted around the room, pulling out strange machines and chemicals and dumping them on the table. It reminded me of home. From his pocket, he took the tube from yesterday. He sat at the table and started looking at the mystery substance through a microscope. I stood awkwardly for a few minutes before telling him I was going for a walk. He didn't reply. I shrugged and walked outside. I could see a shopping centre down the end of the street and decided to copy Sherlock and investigate.

The centre was enormous for a small town like this. It was littered with shops of all sorts and seemed to stretch on forever. I wasn't surprised when I saw it was empty too. I managed to walk about halfway when something moved in the corner of my eye. I turned and saw a small piece of black fabric poking out from behind a lounge. I pulled the gun out of the back of my pants and aimed it towards the fabric, moving slowly around the lounge. I jumped when the figure leapt out from behind it.  
"IIE! KAWAI! KAWAI!" said the figure.  
"Archanderal? What are you doing?" I put my gun away and offered to help her off the floor.  
"J-John-san? Watashi wa…shinimasenka?" She looked bewildered and took my hand hesitantly with her gloved one.  
"Umm… I'm not going to hurt you, if that's the problem…"  
"ARIGATOU GOZAIMASU!" she cried. She jumped up and ran towards the end of the shopping centre. She signaled me to follow her and she led me to an empty supermarket.

~It's no secret that I don't get on with machines, especially the self-serve ones at supermarkets. I laughed inwardly as I realised that those machines would be useful for once.~

Archanderal pointed at a dark puddle on the mat in front of the self-serve machine. I bent down and poked it. It felt the same as the spot in the house. I moved around to the other machines and found patches here and there of the same substance.  
"Do you know what-?" I started before realising I was suddenly alone. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I wiped my hand on a nearby cloth before pulling it out and reading the message.  
_  
TO: John  
FROM: Sherlock  
I know what it is. Come if convenient. SH_

I sighed as I put the phone away. I barely moved before it buzzed again.

_TO: John  
FROM: Sherlock  
Grab some milk while you're there. SH_

My face distorted in confusion as I put the phone away again. I felt like I was shoplifting (which I technically was) as I looked at the milk on the shelves in front of me. I decided that nobody would mind if I took a small carton. Not that there was anybody anyway. I stuck my middle finger up at the self-serve machines on the way out and headed smugly back towards the laboratory.

Sherlock was basically in the same position he was in when I left. I placed the milk on the counter he was sitting at and he looked at it disappointingly from his microscope.  
"How generous," he stated sarcastically, "you couldn't have gotten at least a 500mL carton?"  
"I felt bad enough taking _that _one. I thought nobody would mind if I took that one instead of something larger."  
"I mind."  
"I figured that."  
"Also, there is no-one else."  
"I figured that out too."  
"Then why am I stuck with _this?_" he gestured dramatically at the 250mL carton of milk, "what did I do to deserve _this?_ I've been experimenting for several hours-"  
"One hour."  
"And all I get is _this?_ This is a middle finger to milk presents!"  
"Sherlock-"  
"A 'fuck you' to milk enthusiasts…"  
"Sherlock, the spo-"  
"A dirty spot on the silverware that is milk…"  
"Sherlock! The spot!" Sherlock pouted and sat back down. I didn't notice him get up in the first place. He pulled the carton towards himself and sipped at with contempt on his face. He stopped suddenly and looked at it with disgust.  
"This is light milk."  
"So?"  
"It's light milk. I don't like light milk."  
"What's the difference?" Sherlock opened his mouth to explain but I interrupted him before he did, thankfully, "you know what? I don't care. Please, the spot."  
Sherlock sighed. He lifted the Petri dish which contained the dark substance and offered for me to hold it.  
"This spot," he announced dramatically, "is from a human," I nearly dropped the dish in shock.  
"Human?"  
"Yes. It contains human Deoxyribonucleic Acid," he took the dish from me and placed it back under the microscope, "DNA."  
"I know what DNA is. So, exactly where did it come from?"  
"It seems to be some sort of residue. Whatever happened to the people here, it wasn't pretty."  
"Well what do we do now?"  
"I think we need to talk to Xiakara."

~*I watched the water lap against the edge of the garden. The aromas of the flowers wafted in through the window. The person at the door came in and held me from behind. I looked over at the message on the board in the room. My heart sank as words filled my ear. I thought of jumping out into the flowers.*~

**Hello. Just a friendly translation today.  
A: NO! SCARY! SCARY!  
J: Archanderal? What are you doing?  
A: John? I…Won't die?  
J: Umm… I'm not going to hurt you if that's the problem…  
A: THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**

SH


	5. Chapter 5

Xiakara sat awkwardly at the table. The Petri dish and test tube sat between Xiakara and Sherlock and I. Sherlock was leaning on the table and I sat straight with a cup of tea.  
"What do you know about this?" asked Sherlock, pushing the containers towards Xiakara.  
"N-nothing. I don't know what that is," She looked away from us. Sherlock steepled his fingers. I sipped my tea, keeping out of this conversation as much as I could. Sherlock glanced at me as I put my cup down.  
"You know what it is. Tell me."  
"I don't. Please, stop ask-"  
"Did you know I am the greatest detective in the world?" Xiakara looked at me, I nodded and sipped my tea again.  
"Well, yes, but why-"  
"Then how can you sit there, in those clothes which are made for winters in England, when it's summer here in Australia and not expect me to suspect something?" Xiakara looked back at Sherlock, then darted her eyes around the table. She took off the glove on her left hand and held her hand over the dish. She retracted her fingers slightly, looking between Sherlock and I, and straightened then again, touching the spot. She removed her finger and showed it to us. The spot had seeped through her skin and after a few seconds disappeared, leaving only her pale skin. Sherlock's face was unchanged but I had my mouth open in awe. Sherlock suddenly ran upstairs and returned with his jar of eyeballs.

~No matter how hard I try, I can never stop Sherlock from bringing some sort of experiment wherever he goes. I don't even know how those eyeballs got here, he didn't go into the flat after I packed for us…~

"Show me," he said, now pushing the eyeballs towards her. She screwed her face at the sight of the half-melted, half-exploded mass he called an experiment and disdainfully touched it. They darkened, and suddenly became a pool of black ooze that filled the jar. She stirred her fingers through the liquid and it slowly started to disappear.  
"That's…amazing!" I blurted. Sherlock gave me a strange look that seemed to resemble jealousy. Xiakara withdrew and leaned back in her chair.  
"There's something else, isn't there?" Sherlock inquired. Xiakara sighed and cupped her hand onto the table.  
"What would you like?" she asked quietly. Sherlock turned to me.  
"John, what sort of animal do you like?"  
"Wh-what? Umm… oh… err… I like… raccoons?" I stuttered. Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned back to Xiakara.  
"A rabbit will do."

~I was looking forward to seeing a raccoon. They're…cute…~

Xiakara removed her hand, revealing a tiny black rabbit about the size of a teacup. It started to move towards Sherlock. It got as far as his arms before stopping, sitting up and sniffing at him. He picked it up by the back of its neck and put it in his shirt pocket.  
"All in all I think I've had a pretty productive day," Sherlock smiled. The rabbit seemed to squeak in agreement.  
"Wait…what…what the hell just happened?" I demanded. Xiakara looked down in embarrassment.  
"I…I'm a Shade…"  
"A what?"  
"A Shade. I use dark residue like the one you and Sherlock found to make things. Living things like that rabbit…"  
"Sherlock?"  
"She's telling the truth," he stated simply, "I was fascinated by the story of the Shades when I was younger, and seeing all this evidence like this made me suspect Xiakara here of being one."  
"I still don't get it."  
"Shades come in pairs, a Creator and a Destroyer. Creators are like Xiakara, they make things out of the mess Destroyers leave behind."

"Seriously, John? It's like… Ying and Yang…"  
"Oh! Right." Sherlock shook his head at me and turned to Xiakara.  
"So…the question remains as to who your partner is."  
"I…I don't remember…They took my memories when they left…" she murmured.  
"Left? Left where?" I asked.  
"I don't know. Maybe I left. One or the other, I just don't remember." I placed my cup on the table and stood up.  
"Well, I don't know about you two but all this is making my head spin. I think I might go to bed." Silence echoed throughout the house as I climbed the stairs and crept into the room. I changed into my pyjamas and collapsed onto the bed.

~* The early morning sun shimmered in the water at the edge of the garden. The footsteps of the person in the room made me turn my head, glancing at the message written on the board: _I love you._ The warm hands that held me from behind were accompanied by words that I couldn't hear, but I responded to them.

_You make me happy…_

I stood and looked out the window. For a moment I wished I could leap out of it, but I turned and looked at the dark room, seeing the light outlining the door.*~

I woke like I had been waking for the past few days- with a start, like I had just had a nightmare. I checked the time and wasn't surprised when I saw it read 9.30am. I stretched out on the bed and found that I was alone in it. I sat up as I saw him enter the room.  
"Ah, John. How was your sleep?" He asked.  
"Terrible. I've been having the same dream lately," I replied quietly. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and when I looked up again, Sherlock had joined me on the bed. I heard a soft squeak and saw that the rabbit had moved from being in Sherlock's pocket to being in his hair.  
"What happens?" he inquired. I explained to him the gist of the one I had just woken from. He sat on the edge of the bed next to my legs in deep contemplation. Instead of steepling his hands, he cupped them in front of his face. I was confused until I saw the tiny rabbit flop out of Sherlock's hair and land in his hands. He put it into his shirt pocket and continued to sit in thought.  
"So you're not you," he said finally.  
"No."  
"But you don't know who you are."  
"No."  
"Or where you are."  
"No."  
"Or who is accompanying you."  
"No. But they must be important to whoever I am. And whoever I am in my dream-"  
"-must have some connection to you," Sherlock finished. I nodded in agreement.  
*~*


	6. Chapter 6

"I want to know more about your dreams," Sherlock murmured. His eyes gazed into mine and filled me with warmth. The low, husky voice crept around my ears and penetrated into my skull. He moved closer to me and I ran out of room as I shuffled to the head of the bed. I could feel his breath ooze over my chest and I shuddered slightly from the sensation of it dancing across my skin.

~I think I found the cause of global warming.~

"I…I told you everything," I stammered. My breath caught as he moved towards my ear.  
"Then go back to sleep," He whispered.

I fainted.

~*A small black butterfly fluttered through the garden and out onto the water. The person that entered the room made me turn my head and glance at the message on the board: _I love you.  
_Her warm arms wrapped around my waist as she whispered into my ear.  
_  
…we're just making each other miserable, _she whispered_  
You make me happy… _I responded._  
But you make me miserable._

I stood and looked out the window. For a moment I wished I could leap out of it, but I turned and looked at the dark room, seeing the light outlining the door. I heard her cry out as I stepped backwards.*~

"Jooohhhhnnn?" Cooed a husked voice. I woke slower than I had for the past few days. Sherlock was perched over me, smiling at my dreamy state.  
"Nnnnnnggh… how long was I asleep?" I muttered, rolling to the side. Sherlock rolled with me and played with some of my hair.  
"A day," he smiled. He twirled my hair in his fingers and I blushed lightly.  
"A…day?" I repeated, "What time-?"  
"It's 9.30, but we don't have to get up if you don't want to."  
"Sherlock? What-ah!" I groaned as he attacked my neck with his lips. I tried to push him off, but his strength scarily surpassed mine.  
"John?" Sherlock inquired, his face millimeters away from mine. I was pinned to the bed and could feel his breath penetrating my face.  
"Y-yes?"  
"I want my memories back," Sherlock closed the gap and kissed me viciously, his tongue inspected every detail of my mouth and he gnawed at my lips. He pulled the sheets off me, followed by my pyjamas. I watched as Sherlock eyed my figure with a hungry look in his eyes. I tried to squirm in protest but my body wouldn't move. My hands and feet became numb and as I managed to move my head up to look at them, I gasped. My hands and feet were becoming darker, the shape diminished and soon they were pools of black oozing onto the bed. The darkness spread through my body and I felt tears run down my face as Sherlock dipped his fingers into the puddles of black- the puddles of me. Sickness gripped me as Sherlock licked the sludge melting off my chest.  
"I remember…" Sherlock whispered.  
"What are you talking about?" I rasped, scared of what was happening to me, "…you're not Sherlock, are you? You're the one from before."  
"Yes, John. But who am I?"  
"…Xiakara? No, wait. She doesn't destroy, like you."  
"True. Make another deduction."  
"I wouldn't know. Bruce seems too stupid to be able to do something like this, Skip is a…a…"  
"Kangaroo."  
"Umm…right. And Archanderal can't speak English."  
"Can't she?"  
"…No?" My voice was fainting, I could see the darkness reaching my neck. I looked up at the one-who-resembled-Sherlock and saw flakes fall from his face and hair. As the darkness crawled up my neck, the figure next to me had shed their skin, "you…you're the one from the dreams."  
"Am I? You're going to have to jog my memory a bit," She whispered as she sank her hands into the liquid I left behind. I closed my eyes as I melted into darkness. 


	7. Chapter 7

I woke in darkness. It wasn't the smothering darkness like being under a blanket or walking through fog at night, it was the kind of darkness that settles when there is no light. My knowledge of gravity told me I was lying on the ground, although this may not have been the case. I assumed the direction I was looking in was up, and I touched around my eyes to be sure they were open. I couldn't find a reason to get up, so I decided the ground was nice. I assumed it was comfortable, even though it didn't really feel like anything. It was just there. I felt a tug on my chest, like a tiny invisible thread pulled on me. I rolled with the tug onto my stomach. The ground fell away from my torso and I found myself suddenly standing. The tug enticed me forwards as I walked through the darkness. Time passed, I guessed. I had no way of telling how much, but after that time a noise echoed through the darkness. It was so faint that it was indescribable, but it was a noise nonetheless. I walked onwards at the provocation of the tug, and as I did the noise grew. The music that came from within the darkness was soothing and yet… melancholy. By the sound of it, it was a string instrument… a violin. As I moved forward, the sound grew until I assumed I was nearly on top of it. It suddenly stopped and the tug disappeared. I felt alone in the darkness for a time until something poked into my stomach.

*~*  
I touched the foreign object and deduced that it was the bow of the violin. I breathed out, surprised that I was holding my breath in the first place. A husked whisper growled from the source of the bow.  
"Who's there?"  
"Sherlock?" I asked. The familiar voice had filled me with a warm sense of hope.  
"No, I'm Sherlock. I asked who _you_ are."  
"Sherlock!" I leapt into the darkness without thought, tackling the detective to the ground. He landed with an 'oof'.  
"For the last time, you aggressive stranger, _I'm _Sherlock, _you _are not," he enforced. I lay awkwardly on top of him for a while, not wanting to lose the connection with another person (especially Sherlock) who was lost in the darkness, "John?" Sherlock inquired hesitantly.  
"Yes?"  
"Ah. So it is you. Could you please get off me?"  
"Oh, yes, of course…" I got up and grabbed his hand to help him up. I blushed in the darkness as we continued to hold them.  
"You're holding my hand."  
"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock."  
"Why?"  
"I don't want to be lost again. It's not like anyone will see us anyway."  
"Except the readers."  
"The what?"  
"Never mind, let's go," he tugged at my hand like the string had tugged on my chest. _Even if I lose you, _I thought, _I'll always find you. We're always connected.  
_ *~*  
There was the passing of time again, I imagined it was slightly longer than the time that had passed before. We wandered in the shadows, Sherlock leading me in an unknown direction until suddenly he stopped. I didn't see him stop of course, so I walked straight into the wall.  
"There's a wall here," I whispered.  
"Your observational skills are absolutely astounding," Sherlock replied sarcastically. I felt the wall with my free hand, trying to find some sort of opening or foothold so we could proceed. I didn't want to turn back, there was no telling how long we'd been here, and I didn't want that time to double or even triple if we turned. I spent so much time worrying that I didn't feel my arm being pulled up. Sherlock was walking on the wall.  
"Sherlock! How are you-?"  
"Just step on the wall and temporarily stop thinking about gravity," I placed a foot on the wall, trying to imagine it being the floor. Instead of weaning my brain into the idea like I imagine Sherlock had, it accepted it as the floor right away and my face slammed into it. Sherlock's hand pulled me up and I felt my face for signs of bleeding. I wasn't, thankfully, so we moved on through the darkness. More time passed before we stopped again. This time, Sherlock actually said he stopped to avoid me from moving ahead.  
"I want you to let go of my hand," Sherlock stated, his voice distant in thought.  
"Why? I mean… as long as you don't move…"  
"Don't worry, I just need to play my violin."  
"Wait," my mind suddenly realised an important fact, "Where did you get that? In fact, how did you get _here_?"  
"I was playing it, don't you remember? I was playing it in the morning, then you came into the room and you…you…I… can't remember…"  
"You weren't playing it… _you _came into the room after I woke up and…"  
"Why can't we remember?"  
"I don't know, Sherlock. Go on, play it," after some time the melancholy melody flowed from the violin again. I felt the connection I had felt before, I felt it tugging out of my chest and leaving me. More time came and went, and there was suddenly a pin prick of light. I reached for it before the music ceased.  
"You won't be able to touch it, it's a long way away."  
"Oh. Should we go then?"  
"No, I think we should stay here and just look at it."  
"You don't have to say it like that…"  
"Come on, John," his hand brushed mine as he searched for it and I reached out and grabbed his shirt. He directed my hand to his and we moved off towards the light.

**Wow… haven't written in a while. Sorry about the late updates but I've been really busy and have access to the internet less and less. The last time I had the internet I lost my thumbdrive which has all of my stories (among other things) in it. Luckily I found it again, but since then have had no internet.**

**I just finished reading **_**The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy- The Trilogy of Four **_**(which I found really hard to read without making Arthur have the voice of Martin Freeman in my head) and I drew inspiration for this chapter from that. I think I've made some nice, subtle humour with an intriguing setting, not to sound like I've made the best chapter ever. Because obviously it is not.**

Thanks to all my lovely reviewers who make me keep writing. There is yet another story coming soon, and still a lot of chapters for this so  
See you next chapter!  
SH


	8. Chapter 8

As we edged closer, the pinprick grew into a small hole, and then grew until it was the size of a full moon. The light started to shine on us, and I moved my hand in front of my face to see it.  
"Sh-Sherlock…" I murmured.  
"What?"  
"I… I can't see my hand… or any of me…"  
"I know," he kept pulling me towards the light, and as it grew more so, I realized neither of us could be seen, even in the suddenly blinding light. It engulfed the darkness around us and suddenly we found ourselves in a slightly familiar place.

The water was lapping at the edge of the garden of my dreams. The landscape was unchanged, even the small details like the message on the board remained there like a preserved memory. I saw Sherlock looking around in a puzzled state, and I was just happy to be able to see him again.  
"Where are we, John?" he asked.  
"The room…"  
"What?"  
"It's the room I dream of…"  
"Right. Well, if we want to get out of here, we have to find out where here is."  
"Y-yeah, let's go," Sherlock led me to the large wooden door where the girl came in and opened it. It opened into a long corridor with red carpet and cream walls. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever and was lined with large wooden doors similar to the one we had stepped out of. Each of them was numbered, ours being room 221.

~How cliché~

"What is this place?" I wondered aloud. The door slammed shut behind us and we were left alone in the endless corridor. Sherlock tried the door handle.  
"Locked…" he whispered.  
"Can you pick it?"  
"It's electronic, it needs a key card."  
"Oh. What do we do now?"  
"What we did in the dark, I guess."  
"How will holding hands help us?"  
"I meant search for a way out, John."  
"…I knew that," Sherlock led the way as usual and I followed behind. Like the darkness, there was no telling how long we had been walking. There were no windows and the chandeliers hanging over our heads were perpetually lit. Eventually we came to a red door at the end of the corridor. There was a large golden '1' screwed onto the door. Sherlock tried the handle. The door clicked open and I noticed there was scuffing and tiny holes near the handle where I assumed the electronic lock would have been. Sherlock stepped inside but stopped suddenly. I stood on my toes to peer over his shoulder. The walls of the room were mirrors, and it was empty except for an envelope on the floor and large red letters scrawled on the wall in what looked like blood. I read the wall, and as I did my heart pounded with terror. DON'T CLOSE THE DOOR was written all over one wall of mirror and in some places the writing had dripped to the floor. I looked at the door that we had just opened and saw that there was no handle on the inside of it.

"Hold the door open," Sherlock said softly. I stood against it as Sherlock went in and retrieved the envelope. I heard faint whispers echoing around the room and watched as Sherlock suddenly dropped and adopted the fetal position. I took off my shirt and bundled it against the door to keep it ajar and rushed over to him.  
"Sherlock! Sherlock what's wrong?"  
"The voices…make them stop…" He whimpered, cupping his ears.  
"What voices? Sherlock, what's going on?"  
"John Watson," came a whisper, "you murderer…"  
"What?" I cried, shocked.  
"John! Don't listen! Get out!" Sherlock shouted at me.  
"…you killed all those people in the war… you took your gun and shot them… people with families… you're a doctor who destroys lives instead of saving them…" the voices continued.  
"Sherlock, let's go!" I shouted at him. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and huddled in further. A grabbed his shoulder and rolled him to face me, "Sherlock! Sherlock! Don't listen! Get up! NOW!" He opened his eyes and looked at me, his face filled with terror. I decided to pick him up and carry him to the door myself.  
"The door…" he whispered.  
"I kept it open, don't worry," I let him down near the door and opened it. He leaned against the wall and eventually I pulled him out of the room. The door closed behind us and I grabbed the envelope from Sherlock's hand. Inside it was a letter, a pen and a key card. The pen was out of ink and I thought I should discard it, but I had the urge to keep it. Sherlock sat against the wall of the corridor and asked me to read the letter to him.  
_If you're reading this you are in one of two places- inside or outside of the mirror room. I hope it is the latter and not the former. The key card in here will open any room with the number '2' in it. The corridor will seem to stretch on forever, but there are 1,000 rooms. I will leave this pen in the envelope, even though by the time I finish this letter, it will probably run out of ink. This place was once a university, but it was swallowed by the darkness. Room 1 was a dance space once, but now it reflects even the deepest and smallest amount of negative emotions in anyone that enters it. I was locked inside with only my key card and this stationery (I had planned to write a letter to my parents). I wouldn't be surprised if I die in here, but it saddens me that the only memory people will have of me is this letter before I fade into nothingness. I…  
_  
And then I guess the ink ran out. Sherlock stood and inspected the card.  
"Should we start with room 2?" I asked him. He tilted his head in contemplation.  
"I really don't want to look through every single room with a '2' in it. Let's just go back to 221."  
"Why?"  
"I left my violin there."

I looked out of the window again when we returned to room 221. The setting sun cast an orange glow into the room and turned the lapping water a lovely apricot colour. The flowers were beginning to close in the twilight. Sherlock sat on the bed in front of the window and looked out into the garden, holding his violin to his chest. The sun made his eyes dance with blue fire and the gentle breeze tousled his hair and pulled at his silk shirt.  
"Beautiful," I murmured as I stared at him.  
"It is. The transition from day to night is always magnificent," He turned to face me and I blushed slightly, "we should probably go now."  
"To where?"  
"Room 222."  
*~*


	9. Chapter 9

Like room 221, room 222 started with a large, dark, wooden door with small numbers that were wearing away. The inside, however, was completely different to 221. Thick black brambles gripped the walls and floor. They seemed to throb and shift against the opening of the door. I stepped in first, dodging the pulsing thorns and searching for any clue that would help us escape. Due to my impaired height, Sherlock had beaten me to the centre of the room. The brambles were thickest in the centre, pulsing ominously around a small black object. He reached hesitantly for it and pushed a small button. The screen lit up with a picture of Sherlock sleeping. I stood in shock as I realized it was my phone.  
"John…"  
"I'll explain later. What does it mean?"  
"It means I'm very confused about the wallpaper on your phone."  
"No, I mean why is it here?"  
"I don't know. Pick it up," I did as he asked and turned the phone over in my hand. It was exactly the same as it was when I left it, "you have GPS, don't you?"  
"Uh…yeah. Do you want me to turn it on?"  
"Yes, John," I pressed a few buttons, turning on the GPS. Our location blinked on the map on the screen.  
"We're still in Australia…"  
"Where in Australia?"  
"…Sydney. Where's Sydney?"  
"Seriously John, did you even _learn_ about Australia in school?"  
"No, I was too busy trying to get off with the girl at the table next to me. I managed to do it, we went back to mine and-"  
"Too much information, John."  
"Sorry."  
"By the way, Sydney is the capital city of New South Wales, where Xiakara's town is."  
"Right. Maybe we should keep moving," as I finished speaking, an incoming message buzzed onto my phone.  
_  
TO: John  
FROM: Blocked  
320._

Sherlock peered over me and read the message. I closed the message and the phone screen changed back to Sherlock.  
"Creepy," Sherlock whispered.  
"Yeah, I wonder who it was from."  
"I meant you," I shot him a dirty look and moved towards the door. The brambles shriveled away from the door and ceased to vibrate ominously.

Upon returning to the corridor, Sherlock turned on me.  
"Explain yourself," he demanded. I shifted slightly and tried to avert his gaze.  
"Well… I wanted a picture…"  
"Of me?"  
"Well not necessarily you, but you were the most interesting person at the time…"  
"I don't follow you."  
"I don't care. Anyway, I wanted to get a photo but you never stood still long enough for me to take one so… I took advantage while you slept."

"Sherlock?"  
"…I still don't get it." I sighed at him and he set off towards the next room.

I opened the door of room 320 and turned to signal Sherlock in. my eyes widened in shock as I saw he had disappeared.  
"Sherlock?" I called. My voiced echoed down the empty corridor until it was a faint, eerie whisper. I stepped inside the room and found myself in another corridor. The walls were lined with photos and trophies against bright white paint. The carpet was a blue-green colour with flecks of purple, yellow and red. Faint noises of an argument could be heard from the door opposite. I looked through the glass and saw a fat boy with flushed cheeks arguing with a pale, lanky boy. I opened the door slightly to hear what they were saying.  
"…fag!" Shouted the fat one.  
"I'm not the one with the grazed knees and the inability to sit down!" Rebutted the lanky boy.  
"You shut your mouth, Holmes!"  
"You'd better shut yours if you want people to stop putting their genitalia in it!"  
"Shut up with your… your…"  
"My?"  
"Those long words!"  
"Oh yes, how could I forget that evolution escaped your family completely?" 'Holmes' replied sarcastically.  
"I'm going to hit you for saying that!"  
"Do you even know what I said?"  
"No, but I don't care!" The fat one raised his pudgy fist and prepared to punch 'Holmes'. The lanky boy sighed at him and shook his head.  
"Why did they let your parents reproduce?"  
"Shut up!" The fat one screamed.  
"Go on, hit me. There's a man at the door who will see you and you'll most probably be expelled."  
"What?" The fat one looked towards the door and started wobbling towards my general direction. I stood up from the door as he opened it and looked at me with his eyes wide, "I-I'm sorry, sir! Please don't tell on me!" he blubbered.  
"I won't if you promise to leave that other boy alone," I replied. He nodded and wobbled out of the room. The lanky boy came over and stared at me, "your name's Sherlock, isn't it?"  
"Yes."  
"Sherlock Holmes?"  
"Yes. I don't want to know how you know, I'll pwobably fall asleep during your explanation. I will come with you, however, as I can see that's what you were about to ask."  
"Umm… yes, I was. Wait, did you just say 'pwobably'?"  
"Yes. Unless I weally concentwate, I can't say some words pwoperly. That's what that boy was teasing me about."  
"Oh, okay. Let's go, then."  
"Alwight," I started to walk down the hall and the lanky boy followed after me.

~Yes! I'm finally taller than him!~

"You're very trustworthy, how do you know I'm not going to harm you?" I asked and we wandered down the hall.  
"No I'm not. But I can tell you won't because you're an army doctor, your job is to help people."  
"I see."  
"Sherlock Holmes! Where do you think you are going?" Came a voice from behind us.  
"Mycwoft," Sherlock murmured with contempt. I turned and saw another small boy with nicely groomed hair and a small umbrella.  
"Well? Care to explain?"  
"No."  
"Sherlock, you're eight, not eighteen. You can't just wander off with some random person at the drop of a hat. Who is he, anyway?"  
"He's an army doctor, Mycwoft. It must be important if he wants me, the gweatest detective in the world!"  
"It is important," I interjected, "He needs to help me find someone."  
"See, Mycwoft? My skills are going to be put to use! Who are we looking for?" He beamed at me, eager to solve this puzzle.  
"I'm looking for…"  
"Yes?"  
"For…um…"  
"Yes, yes?"  
"I'm looking for you." 


	10. Chapter 10

"Me?" Sherlock inquired. He shifted slightly and tilted his head, "I'm confused."  
"I can see that," I replied, "don't worry; you'll see when we find him."

I walked as slowly as I could down the hallway so the young Sherlock and Mycroft could follow behind me.  
"In here," Sherlock pointed to a dark wooden door to our left. The doorknob was black and slippery but I managed to turn it and peer inside. It was a small room, barely larger than a closet and had dark, oily ooze sliding down the walls.  
"What is this?" I wondered loudly, "it's disgusting."  
"It's my self-loathing," a husked voice replied from within. I squinted through the darkness to see a head lying in a pool of loathing. Young Sherlock and Mycroft joined me in the room, Sherlock looking eager and Mycroft looking squeamish, "now if you don't mind, could you get me out of here?"  
"Sherlock?" I called.  
"Yes?" The head and young Sherlock replied in unison. I ignored the boy and hurried to the head.  
"What happened to you?" I asked, cleaning the gunk off Sherlock's face.  
"I don't know. You opened the door and suddenly my head was lying in here, in my self-loathing."  
"How do you know this is your self-loathing?"  
"It's how I imagined it. Plus I feel quite rotten. Can we please go find the rest of me?"  
"Oh, yes, of course," I lifted his head and carried it out of the room. Young Sherlock glared at the head and Mycroft shifted his stance.

The further down the twisting hallway we walked, the darker it became. It reminded me of the university, where we would eventually have to return to, once we had fulfilled the purpose of this room. The two Sherlocks were locked in conversation, one which Mycroft and I ignored. I was pulled into it by the mention of my name.  
"Hmm?"  
"I asked how you two are associated," young Sherlock asked. I glanced at the head in my arms. He looked away from me and flushed red slightly.  
"Didn't Sherlock tell you?" I questioned.  
"I…I don't…" the head started.  
"You… don't know who I am, do you?"

"Sherlock?"  
"…no," I stopped and looked at him in shock. Mycroft ran into me from behind and young Sherlock laughed at him. I focused my attention back on the head in my hands and looked at him crossly, "what? If I've lost the rest of my body, why are you surprised that I've lost my memories too?" I ignored him and kept walking down the hall. I stopped again when we reached a metal door with a combination lock.  
"4656," Sherlock blurted.  
"What?"  
"The code."  
"Oh, so you remember some random combination, but you don't remember me?"  
"Oh shut up," I typed the numbers in and the lock clicked open. I pushed on the door, but it was too heavy for just one hand. I gave Sherlock's head to Mycroft, who grimaced and glared at young Sherlock. I tried the door again and it slowly swung open. My eyes widened as I peered inside. The inside of the room was a deep purple with black furniture and fluffy purple cushions and rugs. There were two enormous, fuzzy filing cabinets.  
"Sherlock… what is this?" I said, bewildered. Young Sherlock shrugged and Mycroft rolled his eyes at him. I looked at the head and he blushed.  
"I don't see the problem," he blushed harder and avoided looking at anyone.  
"It's quite…feminine…don't you think?" I laughed, but stopped abruptly when I say a figure slumped in one of the chairs. It slowly rose and moved towards us. It reached out a pale hand, grasping for the head in my hands. I held Sherlock's head closer to me to protect him and he blurted a muffled cry,  
"Mffs mhe!"  
"What?" I moved my arm from his mouth and he repeated himself,  
"It's me, John. It's my body, put me back on top," I did as he asked and he smiled as he was reunited with the rest of himself.

"You can't do that," I said as we perched on various black lounges.  
"Hmm?" Sherlock inquired.  
"In the real world. It's impossible to do what you just did."  
"Well then I guess I'm just amazing," I rolled my eyes and he looked smugly at me.  
"Do you remember me yet?"

"Sherlock?"  
"…The cabinets," I glanced over at the fuzzy filing cabinets.  
"I'm…in there somewhere?"  
"No."  
"I don't understand, what about the cabinets?"  
"My memories of you aren't _in_ the cabinets, they _are_ the cabinets."  
"But…They're massive! How many of these make up your entire memory?" he tilted his head in calculation and looked over at the cabinets. The cabinets were about as tall as Sherlock and nearly three times as wide. All the sides except for the tops and bottoms seemed to be the same size.  
"Ten," he answered finally. I nearly jumped out of my seat.  
"Ten? _Ten cabinets?_ And I take up two of them?"  
"…Yes."  
"My goodness…" my eyes darted wildly in shock, I didn't know what to say.  
"Excuse me, Doctor," Young Mycroft started, "would you mind accompanying me outside? I have a matter I wish to discuss with you."  
"Oh, of course," I got up and followed him outside, leaving Sherlock and his younger self to glare at each other in silence.

"So," Mycroft started.  
"So," I repeated.  
"Don't repeat me."  
"Sorry."  
"It's alright. Anyway, you do understand what the matter within the room is?"  
"What?" Mycroft rubbed his eyes in frustration.  
"You understand what just happened in there?"  
"…no?" he sighed and rubbed his eyes again.  
"How do I put this…? Sherlock has… a certain…_orientation_…that has been apparent for as long as I can remember-"  
"Orientation? You don't mean-"  
"Yes."  
"_Him?_"  
"Yes."  
"_Sherlock? _Sherlock _Holmes?_"  
"Yes, Doctor, Sherlock Holmes, the boy and the man that currently occupy _that_ room. If I have to make it any simpler I will hit you with my umbrella, alright?"  
"Alright," I glanced down at the small umbrella that Mycroft was shaking to emphasise his point. He poked it at the door and I helped him open it. Sherlock and his younger self were still locked in a dramatic staring competition, "who is winning?"  
"I am," they answered simultaneously. I chuckled lightly and slumped next to Sherlock. Mycroft joined Young Sherlock on the other lounge. I tapped Sherlock lightly on the shoulder and he expressed a grunt of acknowledgement.  
"Sherlock?"  
"Yes, John?" he replied in a husked growl. My face lit up as I realized what he'd just said.  
"…you remember me," Sherlock turned his head and smiled. Warm tingles ran up my spine and I could feel my face flushing from his gaze. The faint sound of Young Sherlock gloating his win filled the background.  
"Of course I do. I'd be lost without my blogger."  
*~*


	11. Chapter 11

The four of us stood at the doorway between the two hallways, Sherlock and I on the university side and the younger editions of Mycroft and Sherlock on the other.  
"So that school is the layout of my brain?" Sherlock asked.  
"Basically, yes," Mycroft answered.  
"The CPU has a message for you," added Young Sherlock, holding out a piece of paper.  
"CPU?" I asked.  
"Seriously, John?" Sherlock sighed.  
"What?"  
"The Central Processing Unit," Young Sherlock interjected. He waved the paper at us to encourage us to take it. I pushed it into my pocket and we said farewell to the Holmes boys. The door had barely shut when Sherlock suddenly pinned me against the wall.  
"I know what you and Mycroft were talking about," He murmured in his low and seductive voice.  
"Yes? And?" Sherlock chuckled at me and I could feel the tingles crawling up my spine again.  
"You still haven't pieced it together?" he smiled. I shrugged at him and he leaned in towards me. His breath running over my lips and caressing them with a warm river of air, "how about now?" I smiled back at him and lost myself in his pale blue eyes.  
"I think you might have to make it a bit clearer," I teased. I could feel Sherlock reaching into my pocket as his lips brushed across mine in a delicate tease. My eyes snapped open as he pulled the paper from my pocket and continued down the hallway, "Sh-Sherlock?"  
"Yes?"  
"Mind explaining what just happened?" Sherlock shrugged at me and unfolded the paper. I tried to look over his shoulder at the paper but he had already put it inside his shirt pocket. He moved forward and I stumbled and fell in front of him. Sherlock looked at me and smiled.  
"You're still in your pyjamas," he observed.  
"Yes, well if I had known that I was going to be spending a mysterious amount of time wandering through the halls of a desolate university I would have dressed more appropriately."  
"No, it's…fine," his smile was warm and I felt myself blush again as I realized he was staring.  
"Are you sure you've got your head on straight?"  
"John, you should know by now," he offered his hand to help me up, "that there's nothing straight about me," I took his hand and he pulled me up so we were millimeters away from each other. Sherlock closed the gap and kissed me lightly on the corner of my mouth. I let out my breath- that I didn't realize I was holding- and nearly collapsed into his arms. He smiled and walked down the hall again, leaving me to fall to my knees.

Rotting wood hung on the rusty hinges of room 992. The door, unlike the other doors, had a doorknob with a space for a key. Sherlock placed his hand on the door and pushed lightly. The wood cracked and splintered until eventually there was a hole in the door. He cautiously moved towards the hole and looked through it.  
"What do you see?"

"What?"  
"Nothing. There's nothing there," He moved away from the door and pushed lightly at other parts of it.  
"Nothing? What do you mean? 'Nothing' as in darkness or 'nothing' as in the lack of something?"  
"I don't know, just…nothing," the whole of the door collapsed except for the doorknob, which held itself strongly in the air. The 'nothing' that Sherlock had seen was indescribable. Sherlock had said that the mind was incapable of grasping the idea of nothing being something, that it was there and yet there was an absence of it, so there were no words to describe what we were looking at. Sherlock put his hand behind the doorknob and unlocked the door. His hand reappeared and he turned the knob as if he were opening the door. The doorknob swung 'open' and the landscape changed to a field.

The grass was tall and a sandy yellow colour and a small house could be seen in the distance. I watched as Sherlock wandered through the grass, his hand brushing across the tips of the wheat-like grass. A soft breeze floated across the field and played with Sherlock's shirt and hair. It reminded me of room 221. He turned and smiled at me and I felt my heart beat faster. With a playful look in his eye, Sherlock disappeared into the grass. I laughed quietly and started to walk into the grass. Most of my body was hidden by the grass, leaving me to listen for the soft shuffling of Sherlock. After a while the shuffling stopped.  
"Sherlock?" I called, barely looking over the grass for some sign of the detective.  
"You can't do that, it's cheating," he called back. I couldn't identify which direction it was coming from, so I made my way towards the house in the distance. As I shuffled through the grass, I came across a shoe that I recognized to be Sherlock's. A short distance away from that was another shoe and further from that was a pair of socks. I reached the small house and found a purple silk shirt draped over the verandah.  
"I wonder where Sherlock is," I called playfully as I opened the door to the house.  
"Your deductive skills are worse than I thought," Sherlock replied. I wandered through the house to find him lying on a bed and propped up on a pillow.  
"Shut up," I teased. He smiled at me and I pointed at his black skinny jeans, "you can't wear those, that's cheating."  
"Why don't you punish me?"  
"Maybe I will," I smiled and crawled onto the bed.

**Hooray for the fluffy cliffhanger!  
It was a bit difficult to write the start of this chapter, there was a Huntsman crawling across the roof of a room in my house that was connected to the one I was writing in and I had to turn off all the lights so everyone else could sleep. Wasn't fun, I can tell you.  
For the readers that don't understand what I'm referring to, a Huntsman is a massive type of spider that lives in Australia. I hear the really bad ones can grow to the size of a dinner plate, but the one that I've seen are only about the size of a hand. It's still pretty big, as you can imagine, and I have arachnophobia.  
I found a Huntsman in my pants once, but that's another story.**

Still a lot more chapters to go, I reckon. But in the meantime I'd like to thank all my avid readers and reviewers, your support makes me write more!

Diddums. .  
SH


	12. Chapter 12

I straddled the detective's stomach and he began to pull off my shirt. I stared at his bare, pale chest and watched as his lean forearms inspected my torso.  
"You're mine," I whispered as I pinned down his shoulders.  
"You're mistaken," Sherlock replied. In a quick and complicated manoeuvre he managed to flip us so he was on top. He leaned down and licked my throat, running from my collarbone to my jaw and nibbling lightly on my earlobe.  
"Sherlock," I pushed him back slightly, "Sherlock, wait."  
"What?" he whispered huskily in my ear. His voice made me shudder with pleasure, but I pressed on.  
"Sherlock, if you want to do this-"  
"I do."  
"Okay, but, don't you think we should wait until we leave this place? I mean... I've waited so long for this..."  
"I understand. You want it to be... special."  
"Yes," I blushed, embarrassed. Sherlock climbed off the bed and collected his clothes.  
"You've upset the readers, you know."  
"What?"  
"Nothing," I looked at him in puzzlement, but took no further notice of it., "you're still in your pyjamas."  
"Yes, Sherlock. Other clothes haven't magically appeared since the last time you said that."  
"Hmm," he breathed as we left the room.

We wandered aimlessly through the other rooms. The house seemed to be falling apart in some places, but it managed to hold itself together. Each of the holes had a different scene as you looked through it. In some holes it was snowing, in others it was a calm ocean, or the sky at night. Sherlock and I walked through each of the rooms, being careful not to touch any of the rotten wood on the walls. I heard a faint, muffled cry from behind one of the doors we walked past. I stopped and Sherlock tried to steer me away from the door.  
"What?"  
"John, you don't know how safe that door is, it could fall on top of you."  
"This whole house could fall on top of _us_. I heard someone cry out, Sherlock, and it is my duty as a doctor to help them," I reached for the doorknob and Sherlock grabbed my shoulders and threw me against the wall violently. I groaned as some splinters stabbed into my back. Sherlock glared at me with a half-crazed look on his face.  
"I told you to stay away from the door," he picked me up by my collar with unnatural strength and threw me against the other wall. More splinters stabbed into me and I coughed up a little blood.  
"You're not Sherlock," I wheezed.  
"I'm whoever I feel like being. I can be Sherlock, or Moriarty… or even _you_," he picked me up a final time and slammed me into the floor. I could feel myself losing consciousness as he stood over me and smiled.

I grew tired of waking in the darkness. I also grew tired of not knowing whether the man I was with was really Sherlock or not. But the situations repeated themselves still, and I found myself on the ground of the darkness again. Thankfully, this one was different, there were tiny holes of light that lit up the room like stars and, in the middle of the room, lay another Sherlock. I crawled painfully towards him, relieved when I saw that he hadn't been harmed as far as I could tell.  
"Sherlock?" I whispered. He stirred awake and looked at me with dazed eyes.  
"Nghh?"  
"Sherlock… it's you, isn't it?" Sherlock closed his eyes again and hardened his brow.  
"No… I don't know what it means to be Sherlock anymore," he shifted to roll over and stopped when he was lying on his back.  
"Sherlock, I want to go home."  
"Don't call me Sherlock."  
"Why not?"  
"I don't feel like Sherlock right now. You can call me Sherlock when I feel like him again."  
"Well… what do you want me to call you?"  
"Crowler."  
"Crowler, I want to go home."  
"Who's Crowler?"  
"You."  
"Right," the newly named detective opened his eyes and looked around the room. His eyes fell on me and he screwed up his face, "what happened to you?"  
"I got attacked by someone claiming to be you."  
"I'm quite popular, aren't I?"  
"Shut up," Crowler got up and helped me to my feet. I collapsed slightly from the pain, but he managed to support me. I looked at the room again, "the lights look like stars, don't they?"  
"You know I hate the solar system."  
"I know Sherlock hates the solar system, I'm not sure about Crowler," I smiled. Crowler turned his head to face me and glared. My smile disappeared slowly as I looked into his eyes. He looked so lost...  
"Sherlock... when did I lose you?"  
"Around the same time I did."  
"When?"  
"...I don't know," he moved me towards one side of the room and reached out for it, "what would Sherlock do?"  
"He'd look for a way out."  
"Right. Which way?"  
"What choices are there?"  
"There's a red door, a blue door and a green door," I looked around as much as I could but could only see darkness, spots of light and Crowler.  
"Where?" I looked at him, clearly confused. He gave me the same look and pointed at three different spots on the wall, "Crowler, I don't see them."  
"Are you blind?"  
"Yes, Crowler," I answered sarcastically, "I'm blind, deaf and mute and I can still manage to see, hear and talk to you."  
"Wouldn't surprise me. I could be a figment of your imagination," I rolled my eyes and we trudged towards a different part of the wall.  
"And what colour is this one?"  
"Red. Although I hate the colour, I thought it was appropriate because red symbolises anger and I think you're angry with me."  
"I'm not, though."  
"Oh, well. Red it is anyway," he put his hand on the wall and it submerged into it. I would have been surprised but all the time I spent in this strange place has sucked it all out of me. He scooped up the rest of my body in his arms and walked through the wall.

I couldn't breathe. I opened my eyes painfully and looked through the red-tinted ocean I was floating in. I tried to swim, but my body was still in pain. I sank lower and lower through the crimson water, closing my eyes as my lungs painfully tried to find air. I was about to lose consciousness again when I felt an arm wrap around me and drag me upwards. My face broke through the water and as my arms and legs followed, I fell. Crowler managed to catch me , but we both fell to the ground. I surveyed the landscape. The ground looked like it was made of ice and the vast expanse beyond us had nonsensical items scattered across it. The ocean we had just appeared from lapped over our heads and faint music was heard in the background. We passed a trestle table with a cloth over it. The table began to melt as the lyrics filled the air.  
_Well, there's no free lunch...  
_Metallic birds skimmed the roof of the water slowly, emitting a small broadcast from machines on their bodies. There was a lot of feedback with the broadcasts, but it faded as we passed rows of operating televisions stuck on a channel with no reception.  
_Papa Legber on adrenaline  
Lazy vultures circle around my head  
Revolution one on the radio  
The static buzz is harsh  
Worse than my room's TV snow..._  
I looked around to find that I was alone again. In Crowler's place was a trail of tablets. I followed them to a house similar to the one in the field, except this one looked more recent. And melty.  
_Everything's good  
I'm gone  
Nervous and wasted, thankfully  
Happiness is being numb  
So I'm gone  
I'm gone...  
_I knocked on the door lightly and a small doll answered the door. It was made of brown cloth and had scraggly brown yarn hair on its head. It opened the door for me and I heard eerie laughter move past me like wind. I walked past a room filled with cars surrounding a massive piece of fruit. The cars had sheets of paper in front of them and the fruit was resting on top of a keyboard.  
_Bonnie Brown's letting them in  
The laughing comes, making friends  
The Volvo room writes the songs  
While the giant plum plays along...  
_the house melted completely and disappeared before my eyes.  
_Everything's good  
I'm gone  
Nervous and wasted, thankfully  
Happiness is being numb  
So I'm gone  
I'm gone.  
_The ground in front of me turned brown and pushed up into a mound. A seal with a party hat slid onto it and hung up a banner saying "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" before setting down a yellow cake. A dinosaur (also wearing a party hat) joined the seal and placed a tomato next to the cake.  
_Surprise, surprise  
How t-t-t-time flies  
When all is right  
Surprise, surprise  
S-s-s-s-surprise  
I'm getting by  
_The cake exploded and Crowler-no- Sherlock was suddenly sitting in between the dinosaur, the seal and the tomato. He looked at me in puzzlement.  
_You don't know me  
I can tell  
_I stepped towards him and held onto his shoulders. I was still in pain, and walking hadn't made it any better, but just being with Sherlock made it ebb away.  
_You don't know me  
_Sherlock looked a bit frightened at the sight of me, his eyes widening as I leaned in towards his face.  
_I don't care  
_I closed my eyes and kissed the pain away.

**Acid trip, anyone? Heh, none of this stuff makes sense, I know, but lots of this is pulled from my life (not the being on drugs thing, I don't need drugs :D). Soon it will come together.**

Two shout outs:  
1. Ezzbomb- Thanks for reviewing every time I upload, It makes me smile.

2. Destination Pineapple- Diddums, Diddles, Blind, Deaf, Mute, Hooker. Oh, what's this? You're still number two! ^3^ Also suggested Sherlock's new name for the moment.

The song is actually a pretty nice song. It makes me happy because of how awesomely strange it is. It's by a dude called "Kenna". His songs are weird, I don't know how to categorise their genre and the lyrics don't make sense, but it's wonderful, and still so emotive. This one is "I'm Gone".

I like uploading in bunches of three, mainly because I don't get the internet often but the last three were kind of separated because I ran out of internet time. I'll get onto the next three ASAP.  
I think this story's going to be a long one, not that you mind :D

SH  



	13. Chapter 13

I tried to hold Sherlock, tried to embrace the man I was showing my compassion to, but one again he was ripped away from me. He melted like the rest of the place I had wandered painfully through, and as I watched him disappear into a puddle of black ooze, a tear rolled down my face.  
"You care for him, don't you?" a soft voice echoed. I stayed where I was, refusing to turn around. The familiar Irish voice made me clench my fists, "I can tell you do. Not many people would go this far to find just anyone. It takes someone really special to push you this far."  
"Go away," I mumbled. I truly wanted all of this to stop, to make this place disappear, to be back at the flat with Sherlock- _my _Sherlock- and to run all over London with no unexpected twists and turns. But something deep within me told me that I would be lost forever without my detective. Lost within this changing hell.  
"John," the Irish voice had changed to one that mimicked mine. I decided to turn, facing the figure behind me. My body relaxed slightly when I saw that it wasn't Moriarty. Instead, a tall woman stood before me. Her hair was of medium length and blood red, her eyes a fiery orange and her skin pale as snow. Her face was scarred with a look of sorrow.  
"Are you the one that's been tormenting me?"  
"Yes."  
"Why?"  
"I've been testing you."  
"Did… did you make all of this?" I gestured to the landscape that swelled and twisted around us.  
"Yes. Well, I tried," a strange breeze floated through the space and made the woman's long black dress flutter. She looked down at it briefly and it stopped moving, "it's hard to do, as you can imagine."  
"Why did you do it?"  
"I just want to go home," her face fell and I stepped forward to comfort her, but I collapsed from the pain that re-emerged from tensing my body. She sat down opposite me and continued, "but I can't get it right. I need help."  
"Can I help you?"  
"You can try, but I don't think you can do it either. Not without the other one."  
"Sherlock?"  
"Yes."  
"Well, where is he?" the woman stared off into the distance.  
"Looking."  
"For what?"  
"For you. For a way out, for everything. Answers. He wants to save you."  
"From what?"  
"Himself," her face didn't change at all whilst we talked. I sat in silence, absorbing the information she was giving me.  
"Who are you?" I asked finally.  
"Sabireta."  
"It suits you."  
"I know. It's the name I was given by the one who replaced me," she continued to stare into the distance, "it's too long a story to repeat twice. Come with me, please. Don't worry, I've changed the space so you don't hurt anymore," I tested this and found myself feeling better. Sabireta turned away from me and started to walk. I followed behind as her dress fluttered underneath her. It reminded me of Sherlock's coat. I sighed softly and Sabireta stopped.  
"What's the matter?" I asked.  
"Do I remind you of him?" she replied levelly.

"An answer, if you please."  
"…yes."  
"I understand. Please excuse me," she continued to walk, still not looking at me, I noticed. Her mid-neck length hair moved softly with each step. It resembled blood twisting through water, a scene which I had seen plenty of times back in London. With Sherlock. Just the two of us…  
… I missed him.  
She stopped again and tilted her head slightly towards me.  
"Please stop thinking of him. I would like you to concentrate."  
"On what?"  
"This," she reached out and grabbed an area of the landscape. Hues of yellows trailed through her grip. She pulled at the area and it stretched like a wall of rubber. Or cheese. She looked in my general direction and said in the same tone as before, "imagine this is somewhere else. Anywhere but the real world," I stared at the blob of cheesy-rubber-wall-space in her hand. I imagined a nice zen garden. The blob started to solidify and transform into a brown branch. Pink flowers sprouted from it and I widened my eyes at the feat that was taking place. The garden I imagined appeared, down to the last detail.

A creamy twilight sky lined the horizon and framed the cherry blossom trees. I felt the soft sand around my feet and the smooth rocks under my hands.  
"I thought you said it was hard."  
"It's hard to concentrate on ideas. They just…scatter…and…" she trailed off into a trance. I waved my hand in front of her face but she didn't respond.  
"Sabireta?"  
"That's what they called me," she said dreamily.  
"Why?"  
"Because it's what I am. _Watashi wa Sabireta._"  
"You speak Japanese too?"  
"Too?" She finally looked at me. It was unnerving, looking into those eyes. They were such a strange shade of orange, and they danced like Sherlock's did- with a look of fire, "tell me the others you know of."  
"Well, Sherlock…"  
"Is that all?"  
"No… there's also…um…"  
"Please remember."  
"I'm trying… Ar..Arch…"  
"Archanderal? And Xiakara?"  
"Y-yes. How do you know them?"  
"_Watashi wa Sabireta._"  
"Yes, I know your name is Sabireta," she shook her head at me.  
"No," she continued, "I am Sabireta, but it is not my name."  
"What is your name, then?" I was beginning to get confused with all of this Japanese nonsense.  
"Archanderal."  
"…I don't understand," her eyes softened.  
"I don't expect you to… _Watashi wa Sabireta…"  
_ *~*  
I left the woman sitting on a rock as I inspected the landscape. In the distance I could see a dark figure moving towards us. I took a step back, preparing to protect Sabireta. The figure stumbled closer and I could make out a faint purple shirt and messy black hair. My legs moved before my brain had time to think and before it caught up I was clutching at the tall man I kept losing.  
"Please stop leaving me. Please," I cried, looking up at Sherlock and saw his gaze focused angrily on Sabireta.  
"Another one of your tricks?" he spat furiously. Sabireta looked at him with her sorrowful expression and I tugged on his silky shirt.  
"No, it's me, John! Sherlock, I'm real, believe me!" Sherlock looked down at me and his face changed into mourning.  
"John… I saw things… when I went looking for you, I saw things…"  
"What things? Sherlock, what happened?"  
"She showed me what would happen if we tried to leave together… she showed me what she tried to do to you as me… she… she hurt me."  
"Where?"  
"In my heart, John."  
"You said you didn't have one."  
"That's why I went looking for one, so I could give it to you."

**A bit depressing. And confusing. It'll wrap up nicely soon, promise.  
No translation this time, it'll come next time.  
Gah, bed time for me *yawn*  
Next chapter awaits ye.  
SH**


	14. Chapter 14

Sherlock and I sat on the sand, me looking at Sherlock and Sherlock looking angrily at Sabireta.  
"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock demanded. Sabireta stared off into the distance again. Sherlock clenched his fists and let out a small growl. I hugged my knees into my chest and watched the both of them. I started to draw in the sand, and by the time Sabireta answered I had drawn a stick figure of Sherlock standing in a heroic pose on a rock. I smiled at it and listened to the conversation.  
"I guess I want to go home," she replied distantly. Sherlock snapped.  
"You want to go home. _You _want to go home," he stood over her and glared still, "what about us? What does this have to do with us?"  
"Well, one of you would become Sabireta."  
"I don't understand," I said quietly, "what does that mean?" Sherlock sat back down near me.  
"'Sabireta' is Japanese for 'deserted'. She's saying for her to leave one of us has to stay behind," he whispered. Sabireta nodded slowly. I went back to drawing in the sand. I gave the stick-Sherlock a small sword to point with. Sabireta looked at the drawing and it began to move. The tiny stick-Sherlock popped out of the sand and ran up my leg. He stopped and poked my knee with his little sword. I smiled again, picked him up and placed him on my shoulder. I looked back at Sherlock, who was giving me a dirty look. We looked back at the rock Sabireta was sitting on to find that she had vanished. I looked around for her before Sherlock shout at me to move. Sabireta had snuck up behind me and I trashed in her arms as I tried to get free.  
"I will go home. You can't stop me," she hissed.

I wasn't happy. It was about the third time I had woken in darkness and frankly, I was sick of it.  
"Can't I wake up in the fucking _light_ for once?" I shouted at nothing. I jumped as a reply came to me.  
"I guess," replied Sabireta. My retinas burned as the landscape suddenly flashed to a brilliant white. Sabireta sat in front of me and looked up at nothing with a thoughtful pout on her face.  
"So-" she shushed me with the raising of her index finger. After a minute she lowered it and looked at me. She looked so vacant. "So you were the thing that jumped me when Sherlock and I first came to Australia…"  
"Yes."  
"And again before I woke up here?"  
"Yes."  
"And the hallway?"  
"No."  
"Oh?"  
"No, that was really him that time," I relished that thought and stored it in my brain for future reference.  
"What about the house?"  
"Yes."  
"And right before we moved to the zen garden?"  
"Yes."  
"So what happened to the real Sherlock all those times?"  
"I hid you both away from each other, to see who would give up looking first. The one that gives up is the one I'll replace," I was fuming. I lost control of myself and lunged at her, pinning her shoulders to the floor. Her expression remained unchanged, but her skin started to crack and peel off like paint.  
"You will never replace Sherlock! He is _mine,_ and he's leaving here with _me_!" I shouted at her. Underneath the layers of cracked and peeling skin was flesh that was lean and pale. Her cheekbones became more pronounced and her eyes changed to a radiant blue. Her hair shrank and darkened until it was completely black and finally, she smiled at me.  
"Think what you like, John," growled the husky voice of Sherlock, "but I will get out of here, with or without you."

I woke again in a spotlight, bound to a chair.

~Seriously, with the amount of times I've woken up, you'd think I'd be starring in _Inception_~

Red and yellow stage lights flashed on and off. I could hear applause and typical TV game show music. I was released from my chair and confronted by and overly cheerful Moriarty. I restrained my natural urge to strangle the man as he addressed the unlit audience.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this week's episode of: '_That's my Sherlock!' _With our special guest- Johnny! So, tell us what we're playing for, Moriarty!" I followed the host Moriarty's line of sight to see another Moriarty in a glittery pink dress and heels with a long, curly auburn wig on.

~I am never going to sleep well at night from now on. At least he colour co-ordinated his make-up with his outfit…~

"Well, James, tonight we're playing for two lovely prizes! Prize number one is a lovely Sherlock Holmes and prize number two is a key card for the thousandth door of the university!" the Moriarty drag queen replied cheerily.  
"And what does that mean for our contestant?"  
"It means through the power of sacrifice, he and the Sherlock of his choosing get to return to the real world!"  
"Oooh! What a magnificent prize!" Moriarty turned and faced me, "ready to play, Johnny?"  
"I guess…" I replied quietly.  
"ALLLLLRIIIIIGHT! Let's start the game!" I turned as two benches were lowered with a Sherlock strapped to each. Moriarty tapped me on the shoulder and I turned back around. He handed me a gun and smiled, "here's the rules, Johnny. You get one bullet to shoot one Sherlock. Whichever one you choose gets to take a ride back to Australia with you. The other one dies, of course."  
"No pressure."  
"None whatsoever! Good luck!" I turned once more and looked at the two Sherlocks. They both looked at me with an expression of boredom. It continued for a while before one of them started to move. The one on the right began to move his hand in a signal that I was taught back in London.  
_Are you going to do something? You're being boring.  
_The other one watched as well and frowned. He then signaled back a reply.  
_**Shut up. He's doing the best he can with his limited deductive power.  
**__John, please. This is starting to hurt.  
__**He doesn't know which one of us to shoot, you idiot.  
**__I am the greatest detective in the world, the furthest thing from an idiot.  
__**Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.  
**__Oh it's on-  
_"Shut up. Both of you. I will let you give one more message to me before I choose, alright?" they nodded. The Sherlock on the right started first.  
_Whatever happens, just know I love you, John.  
_The one on the left looked at the ground and frowned. He paired up his fingers (excluding his thumbs, of course) and then crossed them all in those pairs. I looked at his hands in confusion before firing at the Sherlock on the right.  
*~*


	15. Chapter 15

The gun was smoking in my hand as I stared at the man I had just shot. Blood stained his silk shirt and trailed onto the floor. There was silence. I looked at the man opposite him and he looked back in surprise and fear. The hosts and the audience had disappeared with that shot, leaving me in the spotlight with the two Sherlocks. It was a while until one of us spoke.  
"J…Joh…nn…" he whimpered. He was shaking with his head facing the ground. I dropped the gun and ran to him, untying his restraints. He fell to his hands and knees and panted. He eventually collapsed and I dropped beside him. His eyes were closed and he was perspiring profusely, "how…how?"  
"I don't know. I just…knew it was you," I stroked his head comfortingly as he gathered himself. He got up slowly and glanced around, spotting a table on the edge of the light. I followed his gaze to the object on the table- a gold card. I helped him up and we moved towards the table. Sherlock picked up the card and turned it in his hands it was blank except for a strip of black on the back.  
"Moriarty said it would get us out, right?" he murmured.  
"Yes."  
"We should go then."  
"Where? I don't know where we are."  
"We'll find it," Sherlock took off, I followed behind in my usual fashion and we escaped from the spotlight  
*~*

I caught up to him as he paused in front of the thousandth room. I hardly noticed it. It was tiny, like a cat flap and had a small gold slot on the front of it. I handed Sherlock the card and he pushed it into the slot. The door made a small unlocking noise and Sherlock hesitantly pushed open the door. We somehow managed to squeeze through the gap, and as we did we came up through the floor of another vast corridor. The floor was made of black and white tiles, through one of which we appeared. The walls were lined with an immeasurable number of dark cabinets. Each of the drawers had a small plaque with a name on it. I reached out towards one of them but I stopped as a faint whirring noise came towards us. I squinted into the distance to see a laptop on wheels speeding down the corridor. It halted in front of us and a small message appeared on the black screen.  
**C:/WELCOME.  
**"Um… Hi?" I started. The computer whirred again.  
**C:/PLEASE ENTER YOUR NAME. PLEASE NOTE THAT THE MICROPHONE FUNCTION IS CURRENTLY OFFLINE AND THE KEYBOARD MUST BE UTILISED.  
**I cautiously typed in my name and hit enter. The computer requested that Sherlock enter his and he did so. The screen flashed and two messages popped up.  
**C:/USER/John/Online  
C:/USER/Sherlock/Online  
**A window appeared on the screen and a series of ones and zeroes flickered across it. We watched in silence as the computer processed this binary code and closed the window again. A keyboard for each of us was ejected from the bottom of the computer.  
**C:/PLEASE COMMUNICATE WITH THESE FOR THE MOMENT.  
C:/USER/Sherlock/ Where are we?  
**The white line blinked hesitantly and almost thoughtfully before text appeared from it.  
**C:/PLEASE REPHRASE YOUR QUESTION IF YOU WISH TO NARROW THE CHOICE OF ANSWERS I AM TO GIVE YOU.  
C:/USER/Sherlock/I would like you to answer it as detailed as you can.  
C:/YOU ARE CURRENTLY ON THE FLOOR OF THE DATA ROOM IN THE THOUSANDTH ROOM OF THE UNIVERSITY IN SYDNEY WHICH WAS ABSORBED BY DARKNESS IN 1872. THE ONLY SURVIVORS WERE THREE GIRLS. TWO OF THEM ESCAPED THROUGH THIS ROOM BUT THE THIRD WAS UNABLE AND THEREFORE MANAGED TO ALTER THE UNIVERSITY BY EMBRACING THE POWER WITHIN IT.  
C:/USER/John/Will you let us leave?  
C:/YES.**

The laptop wheeled around and went off down the hall. We followed after it, carrying the keyboards with us. We reached a massive grey door with a small slot at the bottom. The laptop closed and slid through the gap. The sound of machinery spurring into gear echoed throughout the room. The door slowly slid open with a creak of rusted metal that scratched at my ears. It stopped halfway and Sherlock and I managed to squeeze through the opening. The keyboard disappeared from my hand and I looked immediately for Sherlock. As usual, he wasn't there. I surveyed the room around me. My eyes watered as I realized it was the room I was staying in at Xiakara's mansion. I was back. I heard a knock at the door behind me.  
"John? Are you in there? I've been calling you for breakfast all morning. Hello?" Xiakara's familiar voice seethed through the wooden door.  
"Yes, um, I'm here! Sorry to worry you!" I opened the door to the young lady holding a tray with tea on it.**  
**"Hurry, it's getting cold," she gestured the tray towards me and I picked up the cup.  
"How long have you been calling for?"  
"Oh, not really all morning, only about five minutes or so," five minutes…I've only been missing for five minutes. It felt like years…  
"And Sherlock? Is he-?"  
"I didn't hear him come down, but he might be out…" I ran downstairs and out the front door, searching frantically around the street.  
"John?" I span around and saw Sherlock standing at the doorway with his silky blue robe on. I sighed with relief and returned to the house with him.

**Grrrghfzklzlzlll.  
Yep, I'm leaving this chapter as-is. I think it's not as good as the others, but the next chapter will improve- I promise. I have the ending planned out, it's just a matter of getting them to the end. I know it's been a while but I've been busy and haven't had access to a computer lately. I won't be working on a new chapter until the school holidays (April 9) as I have exams for the next two weeks. Rest assured once the holidays arrive, I'll have my computer and the internet back. For now just be happy the boys are back. I was planning on fixing this up a bit today but I had stocktake at work from 8-12pm last night and I am shattered.  
Sorry for disappointing you.  
SH**


	16. Chapter 16

"Damn it!" Sherlock seethed, suddenly grabbing his finger. I decided Sherlock and I would help Xiakara with the gardening as a reward for he hospitality. I probably should have let Sherlock stay inside...  
"What have you done this time?" I sighed. Sherlock came and sat next to my with a 'humph!', pouting and showing me a small cut on his index finger. I sighed again, "you are such a child."  
"It's the rose bush's fault!"  
"The rose bush is a plant, I doubt it cut you on purpose," Sherlock remained in the shade near me and refused to do the gardening any more. After a couple of minutes I returned to it and occasionally glanced over at Sherlock.  
It was reaching the middle of the day, and by that time I had done a little more than half of the garden. I stood and wiped some sweat off my brow, seeing Sherlock and Xiakara engaged in conversation. They were talking loud enough for me to hear them, but I moved a little closer anyway, busying myself with another rose bush.  
"And Sabireita? You knew of her?" Sherlock asked. I assumed he was inquiring about our experience in the university.  
"...Yes. I did know of her," Xiakara replied sheepishly.

"How?"  
"Well, we were good friends when we went to that university. I kind of liked her, but I didn't know if she liked me..."  
"She did."  
"What? How would you-?"  
"The way she talked about you when she was alone with me. It was obvious."  
"Oh, umm... right... well..." Xiakara was starting to blush, I saw her shyness as I glanced at them for a second.  
"What about Archanderal?" Sherlock was leaning in close towards her. She looked uncomfortable and shifted her eyes away from him. Sherlock's voice sounded hateful as he mentioned Archanderal. It confused me slightly.  
"I don't want to answer any more of your questions! What happens in the university stays there, alright? Just leave me alone!" Xiakara stormed back into the house and Sherlock sat back in his chair. Strangely, his fingers remained unsteepled. Instead, he gripped the ends of the arms of the chair and looked into the distance. I walked up to him, keeping my distance to relieve him of my sweaty stench.  
"What was that all about?" I inquired. Sherlock remained still on the seat, "Sherlock?" he didn't respond to me at all. I waved my hand in front of his face and called his name again.  
"Oh, um, what? John?" he replied finally.  
"What was that about?"  
"Nothing. It's fine," Sherlock stood and walked off into the house. I hoped his strange behaviour of late would cease soon. I was starting to worry about him.

Sherlock was found in the kitchen taking to Xiakara. Again. He had a sudden interest in her relationship to Sabireita, and I hoped it remained in the interest of the case. I was jealous of Xiakara. Since the return to the house half a week ago, Sherlock only seemed interested in Xiakara. He hardly ever spoke to me, and when he did it was no longer than three sentences consisting of five words at the most. I think the university changed him somehow. I wanted the old Sherlock back.  
"I mean it, Sherlock. Stop asking me stuff about that."  
"Why are you avoiding my questions?"  
"Why are you ignoring my answers?"  
"Sherlock?" I interjected, "Sherlock, leave her alone. If she doesn't want to answer you, you can't make her," I heard him mumble. What was that? I could have sworn he just said 'watch me...'

I crept into our room in the manor to find Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyes seemed swollen and red, but in the growing darkness, it could have been a trick of the light.  
"Are you alright?" I whispered. Sherlock jumped off the bed in surprise and quickly wiped his eyes.  
"What? John? I umm...I'm fine..."  
"You don't seem fine. Actually, you haven't seemed fine since we got back from the university."  
"Have I really?" he sniffed and turned away from me, perching himself back on the bed.  
"I want you back the way you used to be."  
"I don't know how I used to be, John." he pulled the covers over him as he lay in the bed. His last words echoed in my head. It pained me to think that he accepted this change, that I would never see him as he once was. Interesting, magnificent, intelligent, elegant.  
_Beautiful.  
_ *~*  
**I missed you guys!  
Truly, I did.  
Yes, yes, I know, it's been quite a while. This chapter was a bit of a struggle to push out of my head, and the start was based on the terrible gardening my mother and I had to do for an inspection. *Shudder* gardening...  
So the next chapter will hopefully be up sooner and throughout the next two weeks they will be one by one, not in stacks of three like they have been recently. I know the end, I just need to poke them along.  
See you next chapter!  
SH**


	17. Chapter 17

**Watch out for le violence!**

Sunlight crept through the window of the manor room where I slept. Usually, I would wake to this warm ray hitting Sherlock's face, highlighting his facial features. This particular morning, he was nowhere to be found. The peacefulness of the morning was interrupted by a faint sob. I slowly got out of the bed and made my way down the stairs. Xiakara was sitting at the table with her face in her hands. I sat down opposite her and held onto one of her hands. She looked up in surprise and I could see red and black marks on her face and wrist, where her glove stopped and her sleeve started. Her face was wet with tears and I assumed she had marks elsewhere, but her clothing obscured anything I could see.  
"What happened?" I asked quietly. Xiakara pulled free of my grip and held herself.  
"Sherlock..."  
"What? What happened to him?"  
"Nothing. He happened to me," I sat back and looked at her in puzzlement, "he kept telling me that I made the wrong choice at the university and I kept telling him I didn't know what he was talking about. Then, Archanderal came in and pulled him away from me. I tried to separate them because they looked like they were about to fight and then Sherlock... Sherlock hit me."  
"He... hit you?"  
"Yes," her eyes were beginning to water again, " he punched me in the face and then kept hitting me while I was on the floor. Archanderal pulled him off me again and he turned on her. He knocked her out and took off with her. I haven't seen them since..."  
"Holy shit..." I whispered, "I'm so sorry."  
"It's not your fault."  
"I should have at least heard you. I should have come down..."  
"The rooms are soundproof. I think Sherlock would have closed the door so you couldn't hear him."  
"I have to find him. Who knows what he's doing to Archanderal?" Xiakara nodded solemnly and I hurried out the door.

I had quite gotten used to the emptiness of the streets, and I felt that it would be strange going back to London's crowded paths. I had no true idea of where I was going, I just hoped that if I wandered around soon enough, I would be drawn to where Sherlock was. After nearly an hour, I began to doubt the initial connection that led me to him in the darkness of the university. I couldn't feel anything. I didn't know where to go. A shrill cry broke the eerie serenity of the streets. I followed the approximate source and wound up near the lab, where we first analysed the dark substance that used to be the residents of the town. I ran inside and found Archanderal strapped to a bench, wearing only her nightgown. Sherlock was shining a large light into her face and she squirmed in her leather bonds.

"Why did she leave me?" Sherlock hissed. His eyes seemed to dance with an orange hue as the light bounced on his face. Archanderal struggled and answered him in Japanese. Sherlock slapped her across the face before hissing at her again, "don't give me that shit! I want you to answer me properly! Why did she leave me behind?"  
"I," Archanderal panted, "I don't know what you're talking about..." my eyes widened in surprise at the fluency of her English. I wondered why she pretended she couldn't speak it. As I watched them, Archanderal began to smoke. Sherlock growled at her and gripped her throat, stopping the black smoke from leaking underneath her.  
"Don't you fucking dare," he seethed. I ran into the room to help Archanderal and paused as she yelled at me to stop.  
"You can't touch me," she choked. I grabbed Sherlock's arm and tried to pull him away from her. He was incredibly strong against my grip and managed to flip me across the table. He pinned my arms down with his knees, straddling my chest. His hair seemed to lengthen and brighten, his eyes still beaming with orange rage. His long face rounded and his chest expanded. I realised then that the was a woman where Sherlock used to be. She raised a gloved hand to her mouth, tugging the cloth off with her teeth.  
"No..." I whispered, "please no..."  
"I really do have to thank you, Doctor. Without you and your idiocy, I would have been trapped in that hell hole," she smiled.  
"What? I don't understand," I squirmed, "what have you done with Sherlock?"  
"I didn't do anything."  
"Then where is he?"  
"Lying in a pool of his own blood in room 992."  
"W-What?"  
"Wow, you are thick. You plus gun plus no brain equals dead Sherlock, get it?"  
"I...no... it was definitely him... I saved him..."  
"You saved _me_. And I am grateful for that. But now..." Sabireita hovered her hand over my neck, millimetres away from my skin, "I think you should join him. Back to where I started..."  
"Wait!" Sabireita faltered and glared at me angrily.  
"What?"  
"Before... You said Sabireita wasn't your name. What do you mean?" I wanted to distract her. To find something, anything that would free me. Archanderal hadn't made a sound, she was probably unconscious from Sabireita strangling her. There was nothing near my feet and my arms were still pinned down. I was trapped for now. Sabireita sighed.  
"Back when I was in the university, I was with a girl. Xiakara. Yes, the same one you know. When a plague of darkness swallowed the school, Xiakara and I were the only ones to survive. After years of wandering through the twisted hallways, we came across a girl that looked exactly as I did. Xiakara couldn't tell us apart.  
"I became jealous of the new girl. The seemed to connect with Xiakara more than I did. I became like a third wheel. As we wandered further, I began to become enveloped in the ways of the darkness. When the time came and Xiakara had to choose between us- the two Archanderals, she chose the dark girl over me. Xiakara shot me like you shot Sherlock. Unfortunately, Sherlock wasn't a Shade, and he couldn't remove the bullet. You killed him. Archanderal- the one you see on the bench there- she whispered a name as she left me on the floor of 992. She called me 'Deserted', because I was deserted by the woman I loved.  
"Don't get me wrong, Doctor, I'm not an evil person. I _will _let you be where your heart desires, I just want to make sure you don't come back," Sabireita brushed her hand across my neck, and I could feel myself melting away. A single tear rolled down my face before it disappeared with the rest of me. Once again I became a black pool of nothing.

This is the last time. The very last time I will wake up. The darkness that surrounded me the first time I melted away had returned. I found myself lying back on the area I referred to as the ground and I felt the urge to stay there. This time it wasn't because I assumed it was comfortable, it wasn't because there was no violin leading me to Sherlock, it wasn't even because the was a soft breeze that tousled what little hair I had. I wanted to stay because as I opened my eyes, a twilit sun shone upon the flawless creature that held me in its arms. Within this realm, there have been many things that scare me. The surrealism of this place alters what can be possible. The pale personification of beauty curled its soft pink mouth into a smile, and I cried as I nestled into the warm chest of Sherlock Holmes.

**And thus we reach the end.  
It's not quite what I planned but part of me was screaming because I let Sherlock die. I wanted him to stay dead but I love him too much! It's impossible ;A;  
I'm thinking of starting a story in Sherlock's POV. Depends on whether I can be bothered.  
I was planning on doing a spin off on this, but to me it just seemed to go slightly down towards the end and I just wanted it to finish before I ruined it.  
I'm not used to writing long stories (this is my longest so far!), but I can't seem to write short ****fanfics!  
Thank you so very very much to everyone that reviewed and favourited- Virtual cookies to all of you!  
I'll see you when I see you.  
P.S- My obsession with the amazing Benedict Cumberbatch is going to reach new heights as I swoon over him in the new movie he is starring in. I think it's going to be showing either in or near my HSC exams so- goodbye study!  
DestinationPineapple- If you 'molest' me any more I'm dragging you along with me :3**

SH


End file.
